In Dreams
by grumkinsnark
Summary: After an encounter with Draco Malfoy, Hermione finds herself dreaming about him, despite her conscious qualms. But is it such a bad thing? After all, in dreams, anything can happen...
1. The Confrontation

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, I'd be living in England. And be rich. And own the Harry Potter books. Since I am not any of those things, I am not she. End of story.**

* * *

"Ron! Ron, over here!" Hermione Granger called out of a compartment that she was sharing with Harry. 

She wasn't sure how they'd gotten separated, but she had a feeling it must have been some sort of imploration of Mrs. Weasley, wanting Ron to remember not to behave too rashly, or, and at this Hermione snickered, go looking for trouble, particularly of the Voldemort variety. Yeah...like they actually _wanted_ to fight him and have a chance of getting killed, she mused. Ron, apparently having tried to ignore whatever it was, lit up and walked a bit faster to where his two best friends were sitting, stepping through and then closing the glass compartment door to give them privacy. Hermione wasn't exactly sure why they always managed to get a place to themselves—save for when Professor Lupin had joined them, or when they had been with Ginny and Luna—but she was grateful for it nonetheless. It meant they wouldn't get interrupted, for some Dark reason or another.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean it was exempt from annoying nemeses such as particular blonde-haired students that made their amusement by tormenting the three of them. She honestly wondered why they didn't have anything better to do. It's not like Harry, Ron, and Hermione herself warranted a huge barrage of insults; there were only so many even Draco Malfoy could come up with. Though that didn't mean he wouldn't try. In fact, it got to the point by now that it was almost amusing to find out what he would taunt them with next, and deciding whether he'd already mocked them with the same words. Such was the life of being at Hogwarts; never a dull moment, that was for sure.

"What's wrong, Weaselbee? Needed to kiss his mommy goodbye? Forget something? Well, I couldn't imagine that'd be hard to do, considering you probably have packed your entire shack's items…then again, with that brain of yours, who wouldn't be surprised that it slipped your mind?"

Ron's ears turned scarlet, whether out of anger, embarrassment, or a combination of the two, Hermione wasn't quite sure. What she did know was the caliber of her death glare she sent at Malfoy, it joining with Harry's fierce animosity. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw his hand go to his jeans' pocket, tightening around something she presumed to be his wand. If need be, her hand was ready to jump to her own wand. Between the D.A. and her own knowledge of spells and hexes, not to mention Harry's, Malfoy would be in for hell if he chose to be stupid enough to piss them off past a certain point. And he was getting dangerously close. Tempers were high these days, and even something as juvenile as one of Malfoy's cruel jibes could set them off. Hermione tended to be the levelheaded one, but she was known to have her moments, and Malfoy would be the first one she'd take her anger out on.

"You take that back, you dirty, foul little smartass!" Hermione retorted before she could stop herself, her own surprise joining Ron and Harry's at her swearing. She hadn't meant to, but she wasn't going to take it back. "You're no better than your filthy father, and you should stop acting like you are! Ron's a hundred times the man you are, Malfoy! So stop pretending like your better than him!"

"You—You know he's right, Malfoy," Harry interjected, taking a second to recover his voice. _Really, _thought Hermione, _if I thought swearing would make them speechless I would've said it around Ron multiple times already._ "We've been in school for so long; your petty grudges don't mean anything to us anymore. So just shove off, now. Unless you want to be covered in hex marks, I suggest you do what I say."

"Yeah, wouldn't want that pale face marred, now would we?" Hermione said sarcastically, although she found Harry's statement quite a lie. There was no way in hell they'd give up on hating Malfoy, no matter what Harry said.

Draco's eyes blazed, their icy fury penetrating. "Filthy Mudblood. You _dare _talk to me like that?" he said, his voice low.

"Malfoy," Hermione said indifferently, although she felt a rise or ire in her, and her hand reached farther for her wand. She saw Harry start to pull his out, but she placed a hand on his arm, then looked to Malfoy, defiance in her own eyes. "If you really are as smart as you claim to be, you'd come up with a better insult. I mean, seriously…'Mudblood' is getting a little old, don't you think?" she turned to Harry, a fake thoughtful expression on her face. "Now, what's your opinion, Harry; I can't decide—_Impedimenta_, _Stupefy_, or _Petrificus Totalus_? I'm trying to figure out which one would make him most undesirable. Not that he isn't already, but you know what I mean."

Malfoy scowled, almost a welcome relief from his usual arrogant sneer. Seemingly either not wanting Hermione to follow through on her implications of jinxing him, or else not wanting to get into too much trouble by higher-ups—even he wasn't stupid enough to get detention before they even reached Hogwarts—he stormed out of their compartment. Hermione let out a small sigh of relief, lying back against her seat. Harry relaxed his vise-like grip on his wand as Malfoy retreated, getting up to shut the door again.

"You know, Hermione, you really have a knack for pissing Malfoy off," Ron commented idly.

"Yeah, a fat lot of good that did me," she retorted. "He's just going to inflict his conceited wrath upon all of us when we get to school, you know that, right?"

Harry grinned at her. "I don't know, Hermione," he started. "I think he's still recovering from your massive slap in third year. That was quite a hit you got him with."

Hermione herself smiled at the memory. That was a good day, to say the least—she hadn't known exactly what had prompted her to so ferociously attack him like that, but she sure didn't regret it. Nor did she think she'd ever forget the mixture of shock and pain Malfoy had gotten on his face at that moment. She doubted that was the reason Malfoy retreated, but she appreciated Harry's compliment nonetheless.

"Yeah, well, you know me; violence extraordinaire," Hermione said sarcastically. She turned to Ron, before she could get any more reminders of that day, because while it was memorable, she really didn't want to dwell on the past. There were too many horrors in it, which she was afraid they'd come up if they weren't careful as to what they said. "So anyway, Ron, how was your summer? It'd have better have been more exciting than mine. We went skiing again—in the Alps, yeah, which was cool, I suppose, but I'm not too fond of the sport. I more prefer staying at Hogwarts and the things it entails there."

"Yes, because fighting evil wizards is just the most captivating thing ever," Harry said darkly. Hermione winced.

"It was okay," Ron injected before Harry's fury reared its ugly head again. They knew better than to inflate his anger, especially nowadays, and he and Hermione already sensed a Harry rampage coming on if they didn't watch it. "Just hung out at the Burrow, was force fed by my mother and Apparated on by Fred and George. They're incorrigible, I tell you. Spellcasting this way and that, nearly impaling people with forks or knives they've tried to enchant to magically feed them…and Ginny isn't much better. You do _not _want to get her angry at you, trust me. She's got a lot more than Bat-Bogey hexes up her sleeve, know that."

Hermione laughed, and she knew it all too well, though she, thankfully, hadn't been on the receiving end of one such jinx. "Oh, Ron, calm down," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "She's your sister. She's _supposed _to get on your nerves."

"Nerves!" Ron exclaimed, incensed. Pigwidgeon, his hyperactive owl, tweeted loudly as he started to zoom around the compartment, awakened from his sleep. Harry, with his Quidditch reflexes, reached out and grabbed him like a furry Snitch, restoring him back to his cage, this time locking it. Hermione shot him a look of gratitude. "She's impossible! She'll grow up to be worse than Fred and George! I'd tell her to go the Percy route, but he's still being an ignorant, insensitive, spiteful idiot, and though he was probably the most calm out of all of us, he was still as annoying as anyone else in my blasted family."

"Ronald Weasley, you do not mean that!" Hermione said crossly. She wasn't fond of Percy either, especially now, but that didn't mean she felt Ron could insult the rest of his relatives.

"Yeah, Ron, I think she's got a point," Harry joined in, a grin on his face. "If you're too mean to them, you may not get invited over so many times, or get your mother's awesome Easter eggs."

"All right, all right, calm down," Ron said, surrendering. "No need to get all spastic on me. I'm just saying, is all."

"Mhm, I'm sure," Hermione laughed.

Harry turned to her, adjusting his glasses. "So besides skiing, what else did you do? You can't honestly tell me that being on a mountain was all you did over the summer."

Hermione blushed, and Ron narrowed his eyes at her. "Well, I _did _write to Viktor again," she admitted quietly. Harry snorted at Ron's irritated look. "He's doing quite well, won some more Quidditch matches and did wonderfully on his exams this last year. But I am nearly hexing myself in the past days, you know. I mean, I haven't even gotten to studying for the N.E.W.T. Potions or Arithmancy tests!"

"_Hermione," _Ron and Harry groaned in unanimously. "Don't you _ever _give up on that? come on, relax a little. we've got until like the end of this year to—"

"Well, Ronald, unlike you, I actually have expectations to meet! You do realize that if I don't pass these, I'll never get into my career after Hogwarts! I can't afford to not get a head start!"

Harry sighed, recognizing full well this was a futile effort to try and get her to lie back on exams and job worries; it was just her nature. Plus, he reminded himself, he couldn't get too much on her back. After all, especially in Potions, she was one of the only people who could help him pass it. Moody had suggested becoming an Auror…it was the only thing Harry had actually thought seriously about, and he imagined that if he didn't work hard himself, he'd never be able to even apply for it. He wasn't completely sure what requisites you needed to have to get in, but he surmised the bar was set pretty high. Needless to say, this year would be hell for him if he didn't work himself to near death to make it worthwhile. And so at this grim thought, he took to staring out the window into the pitch blackness, turning away from Hermione's solid glare at Ron, who had decided to purposefully stare at his apparently very interesting luggage. This year would be fun.

* * *

A few hours later, the Hogwarts Express idled into the Hogsmeade station, wherein the carriages would take everyone up to the castle and to the sumptuous feast in the Great Hall, which many a student were quite looking forward to. As if to emphasize the point, Ron's stomach growled quite conspicuously, Hermione shooting him a reprimanding look, rather unimpressed with his actions. Harry, instead, opened the compartment door, stopping to grab Pig for Ron, who was obviously otherwise engaged with preventing himself from getting some spell put on him by Hermione. She was unpredictable when she was angry, and neither Harry nor Ron would benefit from her wrath. 

Hermione hmphed, stepping out in front of Harry without a thank you, and although she semi-waited for the both of them to catch up—even in her vexation, she didn't want to split up again from them—she wasn't conversing too much. Harry only hoped this state wouldn't last long; he hated being the one in the middle of all their arguments. It got very taxing when they would each ask him separate questions, particularly in passing the food departments, when they full well could have asked each other. As far as he was concerned, they were far too advanced and experienced to be involved in such petty bickering, and it was irking that they still partook in it.

Stepping off the train and immediately wrapping their cloaks tighter around themselves—it felt about twenty degrees Fahrenheit outside—they huddled together, despite Hermione's supposed frustrations. She shivered, leaning closer in to Harry than to Ron, although he instinctively moved further towards them as well, as they all looked to the large, immaculate castle. Even though they'd gone to Hogwarts for years, it never ceased to impress them. They all doubted it ever would.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the carriages came to a rest by the sign forking, one to Hogsmeade village, and one to Hogwarts, where people rushed in, in efforts to get clear of at least the biting wind, if not the chilling temperatures. Ron, Harry, and Hermione made to get in one of the closer vehicles, hoping to get one by themselves, when an all-too familiar drawl came through the darkness, closer than they had prejudged. All three groaned in unison, none of them wanting to be approached by a certain Slytherin.

"What do you want _now_, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, thoroughly exasperated and angry. Ron and Harry glared at him, for effect if nothing else. For a half a second, Ron glanced back behind him, nervously seeing a few carriages already departing.

"To discuss something with you, actually, Granger," Malfoy said, his voice flat but still smirking. Hermione raised her eyebrows. This, she hadn't exactly expected. An ill-placed insult, perhaps, or even a preemptive point deduction, but for him to talk to her? It wasn't something she predicted.

"And what, pray tell, would you have to say to me?" she asked, though the curiosity was fizzling out fast. The last thing she wanted was to talk to Malfoy, let alone talk to Malfoy _and _miss the ride up to Hogwarts. Walking there on foot definitely wasn't something she'd like to do.

"Well," he began, drawing it annoyingly out. "That's strictly on a need to know basis."

He stared at Harry and Ron, who glowered back at him, fully comprehending though not being clear on his meaning. They both looked to Hermione, who had been silent for a moment. "'Need to know basis', hmm?" she repeated, and he nodded curtly. "Well then, I'm afraid I can't help you. Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of them, and if you're not willing to, then clear out."

And with that, a smirk of her own as well as Harry's and Ron's, she hurried off to one of the last carriages, leaving Malfoy there with not a sneer, but a calculating smile. One that no one with a moral compass would have enjoyed. Swishing his own cloak around himself—despite everything, he did feel a slight chill blow through his hair and around his body—he, too, stalked off to the very last ride to the castle, ignoring the four people present in there, who were gawking at him. From what he could tell, they were neither Slytherins nor anyone close to his age (he assumed second years), which, by his standards, were unworthy of his attention. Instead, he revamped his plan for conversing with Hermione, as it was a rather important matter. He would talk to her whether she liked it or not. And while he was sure the latter was true, he was also convinced he'd find a way to do it anyway. One way or another.

* * *

**So this is the first chapter revised…I hope it's better than my original, which, well, sucked in my opinion. I plan to redo the next chapters as well, in the hope that they will be better, also. Thanks for reading this in the first place, and I hope you enjoyed this better!**

**Appreciations to all,**

**written in dreams **


	2. Somnium

"Would someone like to tell me the exact _reason _Malfoy is such a conceited, two-timing load of frog spawn? I mean, really, tell me _one _perk he has…just one!" Hermione vented, amongst the sumptuous foods that the kindly Hogwarts Elves had produced for the hundreds of students.

"'Ermynee, 'e's a rat," Ron said, muffled through garbled remains of something neither Harry nor Hermione knew its original state.

"'He's a rat'?" Hermione asked, perplexed. There were a lot of words to describe Malfoy, and she knew Ron wasn't the brightest wand in the shop, but 'rat' wasn't an adjective she would have picked.

A few moments later and some impatient finger tapping by Hermione, Ron finally swallowed his massive mouthful of food, taking a huge gulp of pumpkin juice to wash it all down. Hermione watched, disgusted, and feeling like she wanted to throw up right there. "No, Hermione," Ron started to clarify. "I said 'he's a prat,'"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him—that's not what _she'd_ heard—and then looked at Harry, who, although poorly contained mirth was written all over his face, clearly told her he was thinking along the same train of thought she was. Although, she supposed, they should have gotten used to Ron's antics by now, leastwise of which being his apparent inability to function gracefully when it concerned eating…or proper manners in general, come to think of it.

"Ronald Bilius," Hermione scorned, crossing her arms across her chest. "For Merlin's bloody sake—stop behaving like a two-year-old! It's rude and revolting and you—you—you just might as well be Malfoy for all your politeness!"

Ron spluttered, spitting out the rest of the sip of pumpkin juice he had just taken, looking indignant at her accusation. Harry, also at her statement, had snorted into the bowl of soup he was just about to take a bit of. They both looked at her like she had grown two heads, and though she semi-understood why, she didn't think it put any less truth in what she'd said.

"Beg your pardon?" Harry managed, as Ron seemed incapable to speak at the moment. "Are you feeling all right? I mean, okay, Ron can be rather…obscene…at times—sorry, mate—but _Malfoy_? Relate him to someone else than our mortal enemy, would you?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Oh, come on, like I actually would compare your good attributes to a deranged lunatic like Malfoy?" she retorted, and she took it as her turn beckoning to feel a little offended by their supposition that she had judged Ron by, as Harry so delicately put it, their mortal enemy.

Most likely for effect than for anything else, she turned around to where the Slytherin table was placed, nearly all its occupants huddled together in little groups, scheming as far as Hermione could tell. But then again, she was quite biased, so, her rational (and at the time ludicrous) side told her they could have just been talking closely to each other. Nevertheless, even she couldn't deny there seemed only two kinds of people there—the blonde-haired, blue-eyed ones like Malfoy, or the dark-lidded, black-haired people, like Zabini—all looking snobbish, aristocratically arrogant, and self-absorbed. Under her subconscious scrutinizing of the table, her eyes found one specific platinum blonde in particular, and though most of her emotions went towards hatred, one wriggled its way forth, but she couldn't put her finger on it; instead, she did her best to suppress it.

A second later, his silvery eyes found hers, the two people so, so infinitely different—eye color being the least of it—and yet keeping the stare for several moments. Finally, as if something, _logical _this time, went off inside her, she turned the gaze into a vicious glare, wondering what in the world had come over her. He, seemingly unfazed, responded with his own signature smirk, an action Hermione felt more than once should have been copyrighted for how often he utilized it without shame.

"Git…" Hermione mumbled, turning back to Harry and Ron from Malfoy with impassioned frustration.

"Now there's the Hermione we all know and love," Ron commended, starting to bring his arm up, presumably to put it around her shoulders, but then shrugged it off as to reach for something over Hermione's plate, his ears tingeing red.

Hermione rolled her eyes, although her own face gaining a scarlet hue. "Oh, hush," Hermione said sternly, though it was, admittedly, half-hearted.

She turned back to her own eating, as did Ron and Harry, however, she actually _noticed _her silverware was beside her plate, unlike apparently Ron, who ate like he'd never been fed in his life. Hermione scoffed again, but ladled herself some soup anyway, hoping the day would get better faster than it had gotten worse already.

* * *

"So what do we have first up today?" Harry asked her, a few minutes later, after Professor McGonagall had gone around the Gryffindor table, handing the students their schedules. 

"Um…" she started, turning to the parchment in her hand, the writing of which was the strict, neat, carefully scribed penmanship that was a staple of McGonagall; she'd know the writing anywhere. She groaned at seeing her first class. Harry and Ron gave her a questioning look, and she clarified. "Double Potions."

They shot her a poorly attempted look of sympathy, but then Hermione glanced at Ron and Harry's schedules as well, and felt a pang of stupidity. "You have Double Potions, too, you know!" she said viciously and they cringed, but internally she was thinking that of _course _they had the same class—it was all sixth year Gryffindors with sixth year Slytherins, not just Hermione.

They scowled in grudging acceptance. "Then.." Harry let out another moan, though this time Hermione didn't know why. "Then we've got Trelawney and Herbology with the Ravenclaws."

Hermione gave a grin of gloating. "Well, _I _have Arithmancy. An actually _worthy _subject," she said happily.

Ron glowered, blue eyes miserable. "Well, don't get in a rush to feel so empathetic and all…" he mumbled caustically.

"Come on," Harry said quickly, and Hermione inferred he wanted to head off another argument that was bound to ensue between her and Ron. She didn't see why—_Ron _was the one that always started it… "You know full well Snape will kill us if we're late."

"He wouldn't kill Malfoy," Hermione muttered, walking into step behind Ron and Harry.

Ron slowed. "What _is _it with you and Malfoy today?" he demanded.

She blushed. Why, she wasn't quite sure. "Nothing," she said evasively. "He's just worthy of all the crap anyone—let alone I—can say about him, isn't he?"

"Yeah, I guess…" Ron continued dubiously. "But still…"

Hermione involuntarily shivered as they descended into the dungeons, Ron and Harry's eyes turning to glimmers in the darkness, their faces appearing eerily shadowed in the spluttering torchlight. _Well, you have to hand it to Snape, _Hermione thought scathingly. _He does have the Dungeon of the Evil Overlord thing down… _Their shoes and weight echoed on the stone floors and walls, and they couldn't shake off the reminder that they were going into the Slytherin Common Room, for how much the hallways to the Potions classroom looked like it. Hermione herself hadn't exactly been all the way down there, but Ron and Harry had told her plenty about it after their escapade in their second year, and Hermione could imagine rather well what it was like. Harry opened the heavy door to their Potions class to let Ron and Hermione through, Hermione mumbling thanks and poking Ron for not doing so.

As soon as they walked through, they winced—Snape and all the Slytherins were sneering at them, the Gryffindors' expressions somewhat unreadable, though they glanced nervously at Snape. "Late again, Potter; Weasley; Granger," Snape smirked.

Ignoring Hermione's protests that they should just sit down, Harry retorted. "We're not late!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"Oh, I would have thought you could read a clock by your age, Mr. Potter, but perhaps I was wrong…" Snape said silkily, idly gesturing to the wall-mounted clock, which distinctly indicated 9:01 A.M.

Harry frowned heavily at it, turning to his own wristwatch, which he'd replaced after its uselessness since the water damage of the Second Task in the Triwizard Tournament had rendered it out of commission. Hermione peered over to it and her brows knitted as well. 8:58 A.M.

"But, Professor—" Hermione started, wanting to impress the fact that Snape was blatantly incorrect.

Hermione herself had cast the Charm that calibrated his watch to always be on the exact time it was, no matter what point on the Earth Harry was. _Snape's _clock was wrong. "Silence, Miss Granger," Snape said icily, smiling a twisted smirk. "So that will be twenty points from Gryffindor, I believe, for your tardiness, and just because, we'll add another fifteen for talking back to a teacher."

This was in no way fair, but Hermione knew all too well how evil Snape was, especially when it came to her, Harry, and Ron. Harry started to object, impassioned, but Hermione covertly cast the _Silencio _spell on him, and though he opened his mouth to speak, no words came out. Ron, either from seeing this and wanting the ability to speak, or realizing that it wasn't worth it to argue with Snape, kept his mouth shut. And so, before Snap could take away any more points for some ludicrous reason, Hermione dragged Harry to a table in the back, where he sat down in resentment, arms crossed over his chest, his body nearly off the chair for sitting down so low. Hermione resisted the urge to snicker at how humorously childish he was being. Snape then started talking, and immediately Harry turned to Hermione, looking livid, but she knew it wasn't necessarily directed at her. He gestured wildly to his mouth.

"Oh, of course," she whispered. "_Dissero. _Sorry, Harry."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, quietly enough so Snape couldn't overhear, but glad to use his own voice again. "I swear…he's the biggest—the biggest—the most—"

"He's a bloody prat is what he is," Ron finished bluntly, to Harry's fervent nods.

"Shh!" Hermione hissed, waving them off.

The last thing they needed was for Snape to notice them talking and reprimand them more. Hermione instantaneously paid rapt attention to the board, her eyes scanning hurriedly over the potion ingredients, them widening at how difficult the directions looked. She heard Harry and Ron beside her murmured expletives, and if she weren't busy studying the constituents and procedures or it, she would have scolded them. As it was, she left them alone for now, if nothing else than to let them try and concentrate. Most of her doubted that would happen, but she still held the feeble hope that maybe, _maybe _their potions would resemble an actual, sanctioned concoction, and not something closer to cementing goo.

"Now, who can tell me what this, the Somnium Potion, exactly does to someone?" Snape asked, although it was almost like a demand; a challenge.

But Hermione, per usual, raised her hand, practically ignoring the stupor the class was in, none of them really knowing the answer. Snape looked around the classroom customarily before finally, rudely and reluctantly, he started to no doubt make a snide remark but then call on Hermione anyway. That was before, of course, a second hand rose into the air. There was nearly a collective gasp in the room—no one had ever seen someone interrupt on Hermione's personal glory unless it was a well-known potion, of which no one expected anyone to know besides Hermione herself. Snape smirked at Hermione, who looked over at the offensive interjector, and the color of anger and almost embarrassment rose in her cheeks. Snape cast a diabolical smile at her, then turned to the other answerer. "Mr. Malfoy…" Snape said, voice conspiratorial. "Enlighten us."

Malfoy took a dramatic breath and Hermione snorted at both this and Pansy Parkinson's dreamy sigh. "Well, you see, sir," Malfoy started with embellishment, and Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "The Somnium Potion is designed to give the user a temporary increase in a skill of their nature. That is, they usually cannot control what skill exactly it is; it can be the one they need the most help with, the one they had a use for at the time but wasn't good at whatever it was, or even just a boost in a skill they're already adept at—it all depends on how well the potion is brewed and the user's intent or determination. It's purpose is to help those that need focus on a particular area—" (Here, he sneered at Harry, who narrowed his eyes icily) "—or if they are required to learn a skill they would not have been able to learn very fast or not at all on their own. It is generally discouraged because it's easy to have it be considered illegal in the sense that it gives an unfair advantage over certain people in certain situations; sports matches or competitions, for example, although it is still in use. Side effects are fairly limited; for the most part, just over-confidence, a feat they didn't have intent to perform, though sometimes it can be dangerous if the potion is not made correctly, or if even one ingredient is mistaken or a step is missed—it can even be deadly."

Neville gulped, and Hermione, during Malfoy's relay, was in a mix between unwanted impression and scoffing. Snape smirked again. "Miss Granger, anything you'd like to add?" he asked, knowing completely well there wasn't something to elaborate on.

"No, Professor…" Hermione mumbled finally, gritting her teeth. Ron and Harry looked like they wanted to kill Malfoy, which she appreciated, but she laid a hand on Harry's arm, effectively stopping his grab for his wand again.

"I see. How disappointing," Snape said, and Hermione fumed. "Since you and Mr. Malfoy seem so _eager_ to get started and appear quite confident, you two shall be paired in this class period—with higher expectations, of course. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I only hope you don't blow up the entire school; if you are not seriously injured, we will then have to come up with possible punishments. So do try not to endanger the rest of us."

It was Ron and Harry's turn to seethe, although they were somewhat pleased they hadn't been put with, say, Crabbe and Goyle, who were also third-partnerless since Malfoy was already taken. Still, Harry and Ron cast a look that mixed sympathy and wishing she could help them. Hermione sighed, and moved next to Malfoy, whose table was now unoccupied due to Crabbe and Goyle's switching to another workstation, two very unhappy looking Gryffindors trying not to burst into tears or a tirade. However, they also looked as sullen as Ron and Harry, though, admittedly, Hermione was more worried or Crabbe or Goyle demolishing the school than Harry or Ron, whom she trusted wholeheartedly with her life. Hermione stood as far away as possible from Malfoy, to the point where she was essentially not on the same side as he.

"You know, Granger," he drawled a few minutes later after the potion had started to be brewed, and Hermione snapped her gaze up to meet his stormy eyes, rolling her own. "There's no way we can make this potion if you don't participate."

Hermione glared, picked up a handful of the scarab beetles (now fine powder) she had been crushing violently, threw them into the potion and smirked when there was a small, low-risk explosion, with violet smoke resulting from the catalytic reaction. She looked to their Potions book sarcastically pretending to read it, then looking back up at him, who, to her pleasure, was scowling.

"Oh, that's funny," Hermione said conversationally. "I believe it says, and I quote, 'the liquid should have a shimmered element, its current state simmering with a pomegranate hue'—" (she checked inside the cauldron, which was, obviously, the right red-purple shade and just lightly bubbling) "—'with bright purpose smoke emitting and a quiet bang. Does yours say something different?"

Malfoy didn't respond, which she took as confirmation he grudgingly acknowledged she was fully right. He picked up a small tray of carefully cut roots, whose chopping instructions were detailed quite a lot in Step Three, and, taking his knife, started to scrape them off the cutting board and into the potion. Hermione saw his motions, and grabbed his hand, holding her other one under the cutting board so the roots couldn't fall into the still perfectly bubbling liquid. She tipped the board back towards Malfoy, where the roots fell harmlessly onto the table.

He glared at her for a second, then looked at her hand that was still on his wrist—which she horrifically noticed at the same time—and they both pulled away impossibly quickly. Her hand suddenly became icy from the searing heat it had just experienced, but she shrugged it off.

"What the hell, Hermione?" he hissed, then flinched as he realized his mistake.

"It's Granger to you, you ungrateful maggot," Hermione spat acidly, a small part of her brain wondering what synapse in his head malfunctioned so badly to where he actually called her by her first name. She only hoped it was a one-time occurrence. "And you cannot add roots to the Somnium Potion right after the beetles! You must wait until the simmering and smoke has stopped completely and you've swirled it fifty times clockwise, a hundred and two times counterclockwise, can't you _read_? If you actually _paid attention _and stopped acting like a deranged monkey, maybe you'd see that."

His eyes blazed, and he was about to retort, but then they neutralized and he got a smarmy, suck-up expression. She turned around to see Snape coming up, then turned to the potion, a spark of nervousness as to what his assessment would be entering her bloodstream.

"Good morning, Professor," Malfoy said happily.

Snape didn't respond, but Hermione didn't want to risk a sneer again like she knew would happen if she said something, although she felt it unfair that Snape didn't care what Malfoy did whatsoever. Snape peered judgingly into their cauldron, and Hermione was ready for some unjustified reaction, but it was impassive; whether it was because Malfoy was her partner or not, she couldn't tell. She shot a glance to Malfoy, who was rapidly glancing between the now azure-colored potion. Hermione realized with a start that he was actually disgruntled about what Snape graded him, and she recalled she'd never seen him be nervous before. She resisted a snicker, although she did surreptitiously look up at Snape. After waiting a few tense moments, he glared at the potion, set his jaw, then moved off towards Seamus and Dean's cauldron. Hermione hoped they'd done all right.

"Well, aren't we glad I impressed Professor Snape with my Potions skills?" Malfoy said with conceitedness.

Hermione laughed humorlessly. _"Please," _Hermione implored. "You were about to not only explode the potion, but the classroom as well. If you can actually read the words, you'll doubtlessly see in Step Four that you only add the roots _after _the stirring and when it's a clear turquoise color, which it is almost at, but not quite there yet. If it hadn't been for me, we'd either be dead or, if by some miracle we weren't, we'd for sure receive a zero thanks to your stupidity. You're _welcome_."

Malfoy was silent for a moment, to which Hermione glanced up from the potion to see if he had been Petrified or something, but he looked like he was just thinking of what to say or do. _Thinking, _Hermione thought laughingly. _Now there's a novel thought._

His mouth remained closed, and his eyes went to the board, reading what Hermione could tell as the same line many times over, and she held back a happy smirk, though she was mildly surprised he didn't have some insult to throw at her. Trying to ignore it, she started meticulously measuring out the right amount of doxy venom, hoping there were going to be no more undesirable incidents. For some reason, however, she got the strong feeling that maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to be at least semi-civil to each other for hopefully the remainder of the period. If not, the effects of the wrongly brewed potion could be unimaginably detrimental.

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**Chapter two revised! This was definitely longer than before, and I hope you liked it. The potion they made will make appearances next chapter, obviously, and with luck, it'll be up soonish. Thanks!**


	3. In Dreams

**Disclaimer: Yeah…same as before. There's some glimmers of Half-Blood Prince-ish spoilers in this chapter, although since it's been out for over a year, I'm not sure if I even need to put that little warning on there. Anyway, there you go, and voici le chapitre trois—j'espère que vous l'aimez.**

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"Well, that should do it, I think," Hermione said slowly, looking back at the board behind Snape for a second to confirm her beliefs, then threw the last ingredient into their potion.

Much to her—and Malfoy's—happiness, its bubbles subsided, and the liquid turned a vibrant, almost ethereal dark magenta, the tendrils of vapor rising off emitting a pleasant fragrance. In other words, a flawless concoction. Which wasn't surprising necessarily in Hermione's mind, as she knew she would have produced a perfect potion anyways, but what was more shocking was that with her working with Malfoy, they'd neither murdered each other, nor completely botched their assignment. She looked across the table at her given partner, who looked into the potion himself, opened his mouth to make some probable trenchant insult, but then shut it again, much to Hermione's relief. She did _not _need his caustic attitude right now.

"I guess I'll just give Professor Snape a vial of this then," Malfoy interrupted the tense silence between them, and Hermione broke out of the assessing trance she'd been in.

"If you break it, I will make it my mission to kill you, understand?" Hermione snapped, her eyes scathing.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her retort, but then regained his signature smirk, to Hermione's dismay. "Don't worry," he said, and she knew he meant it to sound sarcastically convincing. "My grade depends on this just as much as yours. Although, come to think of it, my reputation wouldn't be too tarnished if I received a zero in this, now would it? Yours on the other hand…"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, knowing he was just trying to get a rise out of her—it was working—and grabbed his pale wrist again, her grip viselike. "Malfoy, I'm serious," she said, her voice dangerously low, quiet enough so only he could hear. Snape bearing down on them for being loud would only worsen her day. "Despite what you may think in that enlarged, self-centered brain of yours, you aren't superior to anyone, except perhaps your dumber-than-rocks cronies, and you'd better stop acting like it. At least when it's on a project wherein you and I are working together on it. Trust me on this—you drop this and it just may be the last cocky thing you have to do. Got it?"

Nothing registered in his face, no sneering, nor any comprehension, but he tore his hand away from her. "Don't get your wand in a twist, Granger," he said levelly. "I won't crack it. If you're so paranoid about it, do you want to bring it up to him?"

Hermione frowned. She was about to take it haughtily from him and give it to Snape herself, but relented. "I'll clean up," she said. "See that you don't make a mistake, because if you do, there'll be no potion left, and hardly enough time to brew another one."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, started to leave, then turned back, blue eyes cold. "And _don't _touch me again, Mudblood."

Hermione's wand was out in a flash, pressed into his stomach so quickly that no one noticed she had brought it out in the first place. "Give me a reason, Malfoy, any reason," she said. "and I'll make sure your manliness will _really _be in question. In a manner Muggle or magical…my choice. Has _that _gotten through your thick head?"

"Yeah, yeah, calm down, Granger," he said, voice surprisingly conceding. He stalked off down the center aisle, getting a few envious glances from some of the other tables, who were either covered in ash and unidentifiable goo, or trying desperately to get their potion to a shade even _resembling _fuchsia.

Hermione was seething from the moment he spoke his last sentence to her, even though she knew she shouldn't let it get to her, considering he'd been the annoying, conniving miscreant he was now ever since the first day of school so long ago. Her breaths came hard and fast as she desperately tried to keep her temper. She scooped up the remaining whole scarab beetles and stuffed them unceremoniously in their jar, undoubtedly with more force than was necessary.

"Psst! Hermione!"

She looked around, wondering who'd called her name, and then found Ron, looking urgently at her, his face soot-covered, with an unidentifiable substance matted in his hair. Hermione, even through his obviously calamitous situation, fought the almost irrepressible urge to laugh. Were it not for their deep-rooted friendship, she had no doubts whatsoever that she'd waste any time in snickering openly. As it was, she looked at him with a mixture of pity and mirth.

"_What?" _Hermione mouthed, now in the middle of screwing on the top of the roots that had nearly caused a catastrophe.

"_Help!" _Ron pleaded, and though Seamus and Dean looked at them, they turned again back to their own cauldron, desperately trying to dilute the spark-expelling sludge that had somehow fermented.

Hermione nervously glanced up to the front of the room, but Malfoy was still talking to Snape. She did not fail to notice the vial with their perfectly made potion was on Snape's desk—in all its unharmed glory. She pursed her lips at seeing this; not necessarily because she'd direly feared for its safety, but because she was fairly surprised that not only had Malfoy done as she asked, but hadn't made all that big of a deal about her demand. And apart from his comment about how he "impressed Professor Snape with his Potions skills", he hadn't had much of his usual God-complex come out.

Although, now she thought on it, it probably wouldn't have looked very good if he'd ruined both of their assignment; or, he might have known she'd keep their potion stock just in case he decided to destroy it. Hermione scowled—the unfortunate thing was, the latter explanation was something as underhanded as Malfoy would do.

Sighing at the complication that was her life, Hermione walked over surreptitiously to Ron and Harry's table. She peered apprehensively into their cauldron, which remarkably closely resembled boiling asphalt. She raised an eyebrow at the both of them, Ron's expression between sheepishness and a helpless begging.

"What, your precious Half-Blood Prince can't help you out on this one?" Hermione said acrimoniously to Harry. He flushed as he instinctively touched the ragged but generally faithful Potions book. "Or," Hermione continued before Harry could defend himself, "is there nothing in there to let you cheat this time? Maybe your Prince just thought it was too _simple _a potion for you to brew and so didn't make any notes. And so now you've messed up your entire assignment just because you haven't worked on your _own _Potions adeptness."

Harry downcast his eyes, knowing Hermione was quite right. Harry _hadn't _paid too much attention to Snape's instructions, assuming he didn't have to because the Prince would assist him. But then, to his utter bewildered dismay, there was hardly a scribble on the splotched page for the Somnium Potion; just a minute scrawl off to the side about a spell apparently he'd been working on. Harry had looked on the preceding and succeeding pages for maybe a hint as to what to do, but to spectacular futileness. Staring down at the book as if it had been a traitor, he had had to explain it to Ron, who gave it the same expression. And then they'd exchanged a look that clearly was one of impending doom. Neither had exactly excelled at Potions in the first place, and so with their not paying any notice to Snape at all this year, they knew their failure was only a period away.

And now Hermione was giving him an "I told you so" look, to which he reluctantly realized he deserved. "All right, Hermione," he started with a sigh. "We suck at Potions, we know that; can you please help us? Do you _really _want it on your conscience that we've screwed up spectacularly?"

"Actually—" Hermione began, but then out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a movement, and saw Malfoy's head turn to go back down the aisle. Hermione turned back to them, shooting them a very apologetic look, before having to go back to her own table, if anything else than to avoid having Snape, or, almost worse, Malfoy, give her crap for abandoning something, even if it was just cleaning up. "I'm so sorry!"

"Hermione—" Ron started as she scurried away, then turned melancholically to Harry. "Well, I guess we're on our own then, mate."

"Merlin help us…" Harry muttered, throwing in a random handful of powdered toadstools; the potion turned a sickly green and then sparked magnificently before sluggishly returning to its former quagmire-like substance.

"Oh, sure," Malfoy said with a sneer, returning back to his and Hermione's table, looking mockingly at her flushed face. "You berate me endlessly for something I had no intention of doing, and then go off to help Weasel and the Chosen One. Nice."

Hermione flushed, both with indisputably mounting heat of the classroom and the undeniable truth of his statement. She never thought she'd say it, but Malfoy was right. Her conscience wasn't perhaps as sorry as it would have been if it were someone else being correct, but a small—nearly infinitesimal, but still there—twinge of guilt nonetheless. So maybe it was this vastly unexpected feeling that had her judgment be impaired for a bit. Feeling contrition for anything concerning Draco Malfoy? For her, not something she thought she would ever, or would ever want, to feel.

"Sorry…" Hermione murmured.

Malfoy raised his pale eyebrows a fraction of an inch at what she voiced. Needless to say, he was, well, dumbfounded. "What?" he said, for a moment his collected, arrogant demeanor cracking.

"You heard me," Hermione replied, voice retreating to barely above a whisper. It was bad enough saying it once—she wasn't going to say it again. Malfoy's surprise started to veer towards his smirk; Hermione saw this and interrupted before he could make some crude, unwanted remark. "Save it, Malfoy, just save it. I really do not need your petty criticism today, all right? Don't do it," she said wearily.

"What, Granger's not having fun in a class? Help me, I've fainted," he sneered sardonically.

Hermione glared at him. "No. If it will stop you, then no. I'm not 'having fun'," she conceded, only somewhat lying.

Malfoy's smirk faltered a little. He obviously had expected Hermione to react more, and not just give in. He opened his mouth to say something—remarkably, she didn't think it would have been offensive or annoying; why she thought that she had no idea—but then thought better and turned away from her, idly scribbling on his parchment. Suddenly, he gasped, and Hermione turned towards him to see him rubbing a spot on his left forearm fervently, an expression of sure pain etched on his face.

Hermione frowned—she'd heard Harry's suspicions on the supposed Dark events that'd occurred recently in Malfoy's life, but she had to admit she'd thought it was unlikely. Even if Harry had said he thought Malfoy reacted strangely the day in Madam Malkin's at the end of summer. But now…she knew Malfoy was a lying, deceitful, hubristic bastard, but she hadn't thought he would have actually been made a Death Eater like his worthless father. Would he?

"Malfoy, what—"

"Mind your own damn business, Granger!" he snapped, his gray eyes hysterical.

Hermione was taken aback to say the least—not because she hadn't expected Malfoy to cut her off or anything, but because of his rapid tone change and words. He usually never full-out yelled frantically at them, habitually just a snide yet casual insult; yet here he was, shouting at her with wild intent. She blinked at him, trying to make sense of it. She glanced down briefly at his arm, which he still had a hand on, although underneath the shirtsleeve that had been pulled up in the mayhem, there was a distinctly almost-black crimson hue that contrasted grotesquely with his ivory skin. Her lips pursed again, but this time it was more for curiosity than for something now seeming as childish as not wanting a potion phial to be broken.

"I just was wondering what—"

"For once in your life, just shut your mouth! No one wants to hear what you have to say, damn it!" he yelled, and she literally backed away a few steps, starting to edge towards fear at the look on his face, the twisted expression of which marred his features.

"Don't you talk to her like that!" a new voice came in, and she saw Harry come up to them, anger flashing in his emerald eyes. Ron was a little further back, but he was still sending a look of pure venom in Malfoy's direction.

Malfoy turned to Harry, a little of his frenzied expression turning into a glare, but his hand was still clamped upon his forearm, and a glimmer of the hurt was still on his face. Harry seemed to slightly see this as well, as a minute crease appeared on his forehead, but it was shrugged off in interest of hatred.

"I'll talk to her in whatever way I want, Potter," Malfoy said, voice suddenly calm.

Hermione glanced between the two, Malfoy's stature slightly taller, but Harry's glare of nonpareil loathing was more than enough to compensate for it. "You vile, execrate—"

"Mr. Potter!" another voice appeared, this one silkily level. "Mr. Malfoy…what do we have here?"

Neither boy answered, too caught up in their own glaring match, Hermione still staring between them, thoroughly caught off guard by the events. "Professor Snape, we—" Hermione tried, but Snape cut her off.

"Silence, Miss Granger," Snape affronted contemptuously, turning again to Malfoy and Harry. "Let's see…that will be thirty points total from Gryffindor—twenty for you, Mr. Potter and ten for Miss Granger's impudence—and five points from Slytherin, Malfoy, to my disappointment."

"Professor!" Malfoy objected plainly, for the moment forgetting to keep Harry's stare. "Professor, it's your House!"

"Yes, Malfoy," Snape said. "And this is my classroom. You will do what I say, House or not."

Hermione found this highly disconcerting, as with the rest of the day's events—in any normal circumstance, Snape would have _given _Malfoy points for some ridiculous reason or another, but here he was taking them _away_. To say the least, she was caught unawares by all of this, and for a second wished this was all a dream and she'd wake up to find Potions class still despicable but normal nonetheless. Sadly, she knew that wouldn't happen.

"Yes, sir…" Malfoy muttered, giving Harry a furtive glance of detestation.

"Class dismissed," Snape said composedly, having turned back to the class but not from his spot. "And don't let me take my House points away again, understand?"

Malfoy hesitated before nodding, and Snape swept away, black robes billowing out, giving Hermione the bland impression once again of a highly undesirable bat fluttering out of the scene. "Come on, Hermione," Harry said, moving to grab her arm and pull her from the room.

"Just—Just a minute, Harry," Hermione said quietly, almost not knowing from whence the words came.

He frowned confusedly at her. "What?"

"I'll be there in a moment, I promise," she repeated, and he nodded after a few seconds; he trusted her judgments in general, but that didn't mean he always liked them, and when the person also staying behind was Malfoy, Harry _really _didn't like it.

"Okay. But if anything happens—"

"I'll be okay, Harry, really," Hermione said with a tentative smile, glad for his brotherly protectiveness, but politely refusing to give in just the same.

He nodded, and gave Malfoy a last death glare, before leaving the room, grabbing the Half-Blood Prince's book (to Hermione's quick distaste) and his bag. Hermione turned back to Malfoy who, apparently, hadn't really noticed her company, as he was still distractedly pressing his fingers into his arm like he was trying to get rid of whatever was there by just that action. He was staring off to a nonspecific point on the wall, and Hermione vaguely wondered just what he was thinking.

"Malfoy…" she started, before realizing with a jolt that she hadn't the slightest idea of what she wanted to say.

It seemed her voice startled him into fully-consciousness, and he looked at her, first like she was the strangest thing he'd seen, but then recalling into his smirk. Although, she noticed, there was an unnatural tiredness to it, a grayish tinge having come over his coloring briefly. Her eyes narrowed at questioning what'd happened.

"What are you still doing here, Granger?" he asked, but the tone wasn't malicious this time—only fatigued half-query.

"I just wanted to know what exactly you were crazily on about," she said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms over her chest.

A shadow flickered over his face and his eyes darkened for a moment. "It's none of your concern…just leave it alone…"

"And—And if I can't?" Hermione questioned, words again foreign, although she had to admit she was, now, a little inquisitive. Her logical side told her that there was a high chance it was the Dark Mark he was hiding, but that didn't mean there wasn't more to that story.

"Then…" Malfoy started, then sighed. "You'll regret it."

And with that, he followed Harry's footsteps, his gait substantially less composed than usual; reluctant, trudging, tortured would describe it a bit better. Hermione grabbed her own bag, deciding perhaps this was something she was supposed to follow—Malfoy didn't capitulate or lose equanimity unless something was gravely wrong. Which wouldn't bode well for anyone.

* * *

"_No, don't take him…not Malfoy…not Draco…don't take him! Don't take—I can't handle it…"_

_The voice was pleading; desperate. Figures were not much more than shadows, and yet the intents and abandoned pretenses and distress were all too apparent. There was a cackle, a grunting emitting of agony, and then silence. Silence that was penetratingly anguishing. The crying first embodiment sunk to its knees, repeating the same sentence, the sole meaning of it unknown except to the three people present._

"Take me instead…leave him…it's me you want…Malfoy, just don't…I can't…"

_The figure looked to the so obviously evil opposition, who was pointing his beautifully hewn wand at the silhouette that was kneeling in front of him. "Silence," the voice had mocked._

_The figure looked up into his face, and was rendered fully unable to stifle a horrified gasp. The green eyes were unmistakable—Harry's eyes. He smiled menacingly at her, and then pointed the wand at the shadow on the ground. "Avada Kedavra!"_

"No! Not Malfoy…not him…why…how—how could you…"

"Hermione?"

The comforting voice broke into the darkness, coming from a bed next to Hermione's. She was now in the Gryffindor Girls' dormitories, having finally fallen into a fitful sleep, first as uninteresting as sleep usually was; plain dreams that were odd but not worth examining. And then came the nightmare. The nightmare that had seeped into Hermione's conscious mind, but much as she'd tried, she was unable to erase it. It had appeared for a few nights now, starting on the night after her Potions class. Somewhat luckily, it hadn't really impaired her abilities to concentrate on her other subjects, but when there was a lack in things to do, she found bits and pieces of it wiggling their way forth. And now she was plagued by sleep—an action she'd never found afflicting before. She hadn't had Potions again yet, but she did have it later today, and she wasn't necessarily looking forward to it, leastways of all being the unattractiveness of the subject.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" this time it was Parvati's tones that had disrupted the air in the dormitory, having been awakened by Lavender's original ones. "Hermione?"

Finally, Hermione's eyes snapped open, her subconscious having been idled away from the disturbing pictures by her roommates' voices. She turned away from them, pulling the covers up farther over her shoulders, her back now to the both of them, mind reeling as it had every time she suffered through the dreams. All she knew, however, was that she needed to figure out what they meant before they'd stop. A small part of her brain had an idea, an idea Hermione felt the need to quash before it evolved, but the more she had them, the more she wondered if they were somehow, in some strange, calamitous event, based on truth. Was some fraction of hers wanting to know more of Draco Malfoy? More than she had originally intended? It wasn't a pleasant thought to be sure, and yet, she realized with discomfort that maybe she had to decipher those questions before she analyzed her dreams. Because when dreams percolated into reality, repeatedly, there was something that needed to be addressed, even if it wasn't, to say the least, an appealing concept.

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**Chapter three finished—I've realized I might as well just be writing an entirely new Draco/Hermione, considering this has barely touched on what my original chapters were, but oh well. Tell me how you liked it, if you will. Thanks again!**


	4. Midnight Rendezvous

**Disclaimer: Everyone knows I'm not J.K. Rowling, so there's really no need to put these on anymore, is there?**

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Hermione woke up again only a few hours later, her mind apparently thinking that either this was some sort of comeuppance for an evil deed she didn't know she'd committed or it just wanted to be malevolently vindictive to her. She looked over to Lavender and Parvati, who were soundly sleeping, and Hermione briefly envied them, despite their obsessions with fashion and men. 

As she became more conscious, she noticed an orange-pink glow coming out of the window through her curtains. It was sunrise. She sighed in dismay and looked over to her alarm clock (it was the normal Muggle one she used at home, except for she'd bewitched it to not run on batteries so she could make use of it at school). It was now her worst enemy, reading 5:27 A.M. in bright green numbers. She rubbed her hands over her face, trying to get rid of the irritating state between awake and asleep; the one where you can't fall into a slumber again, but you're not fully functional yet.

She let out a groan at this, opening her eyes again. "So not fair," she said quietly to herself. "What exactly did I do to deserve this? Insomnia and I do not go well together."

Resignedly, she got up, inadvertently making as little noise as possible, though by the way Parvati, Lavender, and the other girls were sleeping, an explosion wouldn't rouse them. She opened her trunk and picked out a random sweatshirt that Harry had gotten her as a Christmas gift a few years ago, slipping it over her tank top. She didn't bother to change her pajama bottoms, both because they were more comfortable than a skirt or uniform pants, and because she sincerely doubted anyone would be up at this ungodly hour.

She unemotionally took a brush to her hair for a few moments, to simply get it somewhat tamed, although she didn't put much thought into it. This was way too early to be thinking clearly. Shuffling down the stairs and over to the portrait, she pushed it open, being careful (though she wasn't really sure why) to not slam it behind her.

"Oi! What you out of bed for anyhow?" the Fat Lady mumbled, slurring her words. _She _was obviously still half-asleep.

"Sorry," Hermione replied crossly. Now, she felt, wasn't the necessary time for pleasantries.

Successful despite the Fat Lady's oppositions, Hermione walked trancelike down the seventh floor stairs, not quite sure where she was going. She just needed to walk. Before she knew it, she was down the Grand Staircase, how that happened she wasn't sure, but she nearly tripped going down the substantially higher steps. This clumsiness and trying to assure she wouldn't completely fall flat on her face caused her to not see someone coming towards her. He, apparently, was also not paying attention as he ran right into her.

This time she did, painfully, fall down, realizing that the cold marble was not nearly as comfortable as she'd hoped. Wincing and straightening her sweatshirt, she looked up at her indirect attacker, and scowled. He had, by instinct she assumed, reached a hand down as if to help her up, but focusing clearer on her, he withdrew it for a moment.

"Granger?" Malfoy asked, his words easily as slurred as the Fat Lady's.

"Obviously," she said acidly.

He blinked, then appeared to be doing some quick thinking, before, miraculously, extending his hand again. She grimaced at it, as if it were some venomous snake waiting to poison her. After a few seconds and deciding he probably wasn't going to do anything too malicious at the moment, she hesitantly accepted it, feeling herself being pulled up quickly by him.

Slightly startled by the act of unexpected chivalry, she retreated a few steps, his frame fully in view. He looked at the floor and sighed heavily. She followed what he was staring at and saw a dark pool of liquid floating across the floor, flowing down the cracks in the tile like a stony waterslide. For the first time, she noticed the now empty mug in his pale hands, and saw it was quite empty.

"Nice going," she smirked, and then it faltered at his lack of response. This definitely was not like him. At his increasingly disturbed face and the uneasiness he was causing her, she rolled her eyes and pointed her wand at the puddle of what she presumed was tea. _"Tergeo." _The tea flew up into her wand, disappearing instantly, floor as clean as before. She then pointed to his cup, which was still empty. _"Capulumenti."_

Immediately, the same liquid poured from the tip of her wand, filling up the glass in his hand to its former steamy state. Strangely satisfied with herself despite her helping the enemy, she stowed her wand and looked at him expectantly. He shrugged indeterminably, but oddly enough it didn't annoy her that much. She attributed it to the early hour.

Finally, he managed to gain his voice back, but was concentrating solely on the liquid that had recently been amended. "Thanks," he said subtly. She raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything, in hope that whatever this absence of animosity was would stay put.

"Yeah…whatever," she said indifferently, rubbing her arms through the sweatshirt to ward off even more impending cold. The silence that ensued was unnerving, she realized with a start. She shifted her weight to her other side and gazed at him. "So…er…what are you doing here exactly?"

Malfoy simply stared at her, searching her eyes for something she couldn't decide at the moment. "I could ask you the same question," he said finally.

"Could or are?" Hermione countered, a barely noticeable smile playing at her lips. He glared half-heartedly at her, and she sighed in reluctant surrender. "I couldn't sleep. I've been having some…strange…dreams lately and they've just not let me get rest, so I came down here this morning. Thought I'd be _alone_, but that didn't work out so well as you can so _obviously _first-handedly attest to. But what about _you_? The great Malfoy out of bed? I would have thought you'd need your beauty sleep."

"What are you planning, Granger?" he asked with distrust and disbelief.

She scoffed derisively. Who did he think he was? _Yeah, he's Malfoy, but when have _I_ been the one to 'plan' something? Or at least apart from the base logic? _She thought, scowling. "You condescending little ingrate," Hermione hissed, even her low voice echoing off the ancient stone walls. "Aside from a few _reciprocated _spells, have I done anything harmful to you? Anything that has been severely detrimental to your health? For goodness sake, I just _helped _you. You'd think you'd be more grateful!"

His face was impassive throughout her whole quiet tirade, but then it shadowed like it always did and she couldn't tell for the life of her what he was thinking. Not that she necessarily wanted to, of course. However, the fact that he was hesitating and looked even pensive, told her that her words had perhaps reached him. If not influenced him. It was a start.

"Yeah? And what about your little friends? Potter and the Weasel are—"

She had her wand out in half a second and pointed it at his pale throat in anger. She saw his silvery eyes flicker down to it warily, and she relished in the fact she got the desired effect. "Don't insult them!" Hermione said fiercely. "Don't you dare!"

"And what would you do to stop me?" he smirked, the action familiar, although there was something about it that was foreign. Perhaps it was the early hour and his fatigue, or perhaps it was something else. Hermione was preoccupied at the moment, though, and she didn't give it much thought.

"You want to see?" she countered snidely. "Because I'll show you. I'd be more than happy to, Malfoy."

"Not really, no," Malfoy said seriously, and her wand faltered a bit at his abrupt change in…sincerity? Hermione shook herself at that thought. Since when was Malfoy sincere?

"What is wrong with you? You're acting…strange," Hermione observed skeptically.

She watched his expression, which shone nothing but stoicism, not a trace of the sneering ass she had always seen. What was this? Far as she could tell, this might as well have been some sort of weird, disturbing dream. A day when she and Malfoy would be talking fairly civilly was a day Hermione never thought she'd see. And yet here they were, conversing like two people, not quite friends, but not the archenemies they'd been for so long. This definitely made her book in terms of severe oddity.

"You noticed?" he asked, with a trace of a smile. It was then she noticed it was a _smile_; not a smirk, but an actual _smile_. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen that. She frowned at him, and he sighed. "Look, Granger, I'm too bloody tired to give out arguments right now. Yeah, be surprised all you want, I don't care. Either I'm going back to bed and staring at the very interesting ceiling or I'm going to continue what I was doing and wander. So if there's something more that you want to say, then say it."

She pursed her lips. _Was _there something she wanted to say? She couldn't think of anything at the moment, and yet she felt as though there was something she needed to tell him. The maddening part was she had no idea what it was. She looked up, to find that he was already to the base of the stairs, ready to go around them and down the ones to the dungeons to his dormitories, despite his claim he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Whether on impulse or actual substantiation, Hermione's reverie fissured then broke. "Wait," she said quietly. She wasn't sure at first if he'd heard her, but he stopped, foot ready to step around the banister.

"What?" Malfoy asked tiredly, the blatant fatigue making his usually pristine features lined and weary.

"I just—" She stopped, taking a breath and quickly changed tact. She couldn't _completely _lose her previous demeanor towards him. "I just don't think this whole polite-ish conversation should be exhibited too rashly to everyone. For…reputation purposes, I guess. I mean, you wouldn't want _yours _tarnished, would you?"

He actually opened his mouth to retort, but, with the same surprise as before, he closed it, a look of thought crossing his face. Hermione subconsciously held her breath. "I concur…but I'd like the record to show that I did my part here," he said, voice once again solid. "While I don't particularly give a rat's ass about what you talk about with Potter and Weasley, for your sake I wouldn't go blabbering about how I supposedly accosted you with spiteful extrapolations, as I've done nothing of the sort so far. Understand?"

Hermione considered this, not so much because of Malfoy's terms, but because he'd actually _agreed _with her. _While the record's out, _Hermione thought, _let it also be scribed that Draco Malfoy actually went along with my, Hermione Granger, proposition. A day I'll never let him live down if I have my say._

"Yeah," she said simply. "After all, it was my idea, wasn't it?"

He shrugged in assent and held out his hand. She looked down at it, realizing this was yet another historic event where he'd shown he actually had a semblance of a soul. In the form of a handshake, it was true, but for him it was practically his exalting her as his superior. She'd take what she could get. She met his hand with a firm but hesitant association, unable to help feeling it was more some sort of alliance between two war-ridden countries, unrest slightly put at ease with the simple act of a connecting of hands.

When his joined with hers, however, she wasn't expecting of something akin to electricity to run through her form, their skin the same porcelain color, now seemingly blue in the twilit sky. She stared up at him, not bothering to do anything about the look of amazement she imagined she had; what was this? His eyes, their color miraculously changed from their usual condescending gray to a hue of a storm-dusted ocean. His face held none of her surprise, but he did look a little taken aback at either her reaction or the fact that they had actually willingly touched each other.

They dropped hands at the same moment, Hermione quickly bringing hers up to her chest as if it were going to get infected by some communicable disease he was carrying if she had it too close to him. His was nonchalantly crossed against his other arm over his stomach. Where she predicted he'd smirk happily, he wasn't; on the contrary, he had a faint crease between his pale eyebrows, but at least it wasn't anger or irritation with her.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, I—er—I'd better go…" she trailed, giving a noncommittal jerk of her head upstairs.

He nodded. "Likewise," he said simply.

She gave him one last nod of acknowledgement before stepping around him, beginning to ascend the staircase. She heard barely noticeable footsteps behind her, telling her he had departed too, but didn't notice a few seconds later when they stopped. It wasn't that that stopped her, but rather the soft voice aerating up to her from the cool marble floor.

"Sleep well."

Her eyes widened and she turned around, her hair swishing around her, looking to where she'd heard it. Strangely enough, however, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen except for a glint of platinum just passing the corner, illuminated by the light outside. She allowed herself a small smile, fully aware of the ridiculously absurdness of the situation and scene that had just unfolded. But, she figured, as long as she was living this weird, twisted dimensional reality, she might as well run with it.

With that, she jogged up the rest of the staircase as well as the next three, before deciding she could leisurely make her way back up and delight in pissing off some of the more petulant portraits with her lighted wand. Finally, after another four sets of stairs, she reached the Fat Lady, who was sound asleep, her dress billowing with an unseen breeze. Hermione sighed, not really knowing what to do. She didn't want to wake the woman again, but she wasn't sure how else to get in.

Carefully, she prodded the picture, and, only getting an incoherent grumble, she coughed. "Fat Lady?" she said, voice almost a whisper. Strictly speaking, she wasn't supposed to be out this late. "Can you please let me in? I promise I won't bother you anymore until classes start again. Really."

The woman opened one eye blearily before glaring at Hermione, obviously recognizing her from before. Unfortunately for the Hogwarts painting, she wasn't exactly supposed to deny entrance to anyone with the password, let alone a dormitory resident. Though it didn't mean that she couldn't be annoyingly stubborn about it, as Hermione could attest to more than once.

"Passw—out with it," she said irritably, starting off with her usual asking for the password then giving it up for a more testy edition.

"Blibbering baubles," Hermione said, having to prevent herself from saying it through gritted teeth. Why couldn't the Fat Lady just let her _in _already? Hermione didn't understand why the painting couldn't just admit her…she already knew full well who she was. Hermione assumed it had something to do with a power trip and knowing the Lady was the only one who could allow entrance.

"Yeah, yeah, get in. And don't bother me again!" the Fat Lady snapped, Hermione barely getting herself all the way through the hole before the picture slammed itself shut, plunging Hermione into the blackness of the Common Room, the glistening, flickering fire having gone out hours ago.

"Well you don't have to be so goddamn rude about it," Hermione grumbled, rubbing her arms. It really was quite cold in there when there wasn't any glowing heat coming from the hearth.

"And _you_ mustn't go on midnight rendezvouses with unknown hotties," said a voice from the corner.

Hermione reacted with a mix of blanching and rolling her eyes. Anger and mention of cute guys in the same sentence were strictly belonging to the one and only Lavender Brown. "Hey, Lavender," Hermione said weakly.

"Don't you 'hey, Lavender' me, missy!" Lavender admonished, though Hermione was as of yet vastly unable to take anything Lavender said seriously. She just couldn't. "First you're having weird moaning dreams and then you sneak out in the middle of the night without so much as a 'I'm going out for a bit, don't worry about me, I'll be back in a bit'? Hermione Granger, what is going _on_?"

She'd never exactly been friends with Lavender, which is why, she surmised, she faltered, owing to one thing or another; they were simply too different. Which was partially why Hermione wasn't sure if Lavender was up to anything at the moment or if she was just being worried about her. She'd have preferred Door Two, but she just couldn't be sure anymore. She looked at Lavender's still sleep-immersed face that was etched with faint lines of distress, and sighed. If Hermione _herself _couldn't for the life of her figure out what'd just happened down there, she sure couldn't tell Lavender. At least not until she deciphered the meanings of it for herself.

"Since when does it matter where I go or when I do something? It's not like I'd purposefully lose House Points or anything, Lavender," Hermione said with an edge of annoyance and irritation. Most of it was real; Lavender didn't necessarily deserve it, but Hermione was tired and confused, and she didn't need an interrogation. "Especially not if I go to meet anyone for something, regardless of the content. Just mind your own business and stay out of mine, will you?"

Lavender ridiculously taken aback at Hermione's reaction, and Hermione somewhat understood. She wasn't exactly someone who retorted viciously except for a person who really deserved it. Lavender didn't quite count. They'd had their differences in the past, but Hermione definitely wouldn't put her in the same category as, say, Pansy Parkinson. Hermione looked again at Lavender's now very hurt face and felt a kind of guilt, but she stood by her intentions. Lavender would just have to deal with it.

"Hermione—" Lavender started desperately. "What—?"

"Excuse me," Hermione said. "I'm going to bed."

With that, she left Lavender standing there in the chilled common room and ascended the girls' dormitory stairs, well aware that Lavender was staring, astounded, after Hermione's retreating body. Hermione gently got into the room and closed the door, trying to make as little noise as possible. She glanced over to Parvati's bed, who was breathing a little too loudly for Hermione to really believe she was asleep. Once a gossip junkie, always a gossip junkie, Hermione figured.

"Go to bed, Parvati," Hermione said wearily. "It's early."

"Sorry," came the Gryffindor's soft voice and then the shuffling of bedspreads.

Hermione sighed in response and went to her own bed, collapsing on top of it and staring at the dark red, golden-stitched coverings, thinking this morning had been way too surreally strange to tell anyone. _She _had trouble believing it had actually happened. She doubted anyone else would take her word for it, especially Harry and Ron. They'd have a field day if they found out… With another sigh, she closed her eyes, praying for sleep. More importantly, praying for dreams absent of a certain blond-haired Slytherin. Lavender may not have known who Hermione had been with, but she was positive Hermione had met someone, and knowing Lavender and her uncanny ability to wheedle shreds of truth or rumors out of any situation, she'd find out. Fast.

"Oh, what a tangled web I weave…" Hermione muttered dejectedly to herself before finally falling into a restless slumber, her last conscious thought being an image of the man she'd just conversed with. A person whose enemy lines were now becoming disturbingly blurred…

* * *

**And chapter four is done. Alors, voilà. Please leave reviews if you can, because I'd greatly appreciate it.**


	5. Perplexity

**No fanfare forewords this time…I'll just get on with it, yeah?**

* * *

Malfoy, meanwhile, had been heading off to his own dormitories, slightly dazed at himself for actually bidding her, the best friend of his education long nemesis, a goodnight. He stopped suddenly as the entirety of the realization washed over him like a much unwanted glacial tidal wave. 

"Shit."

There was simply no other way to sum it up as to his actions. They were absolutely inexcusable. He knew full well he was entitled to meltdowns every now and then—even if he wouldn't outwardly exhibit them—but this was an all-time low for him. His internal, evil subconscious told him he could spit it all right back at her and pretend he was playing a joke on her the entire time and how she believed it and whatnot, but then that fleeting thought died.

"First of all, that's an ass-backwards plan to begin with," Malfoy started, talking quietly to his own mind and pacing in the empty corridor. It helped if he voiced it aloud…maybe then it'd really suppress that inner voice. "Second…okay, well, I just don't think it'd be a good idea to do for a plethora of reasons…just forget it. And stop bothering me! I look like a lunatic talking to myself!"

"Can't argue with that, Malfoy," came a voice from in the shadows a bit ahead of him.

Malfoy had flinched reflexively, but then recognized the oh-so-dulcet tones of his somewhat friend (when you were in Slytherin, you couldn't really be sure who were your friends or who weren't). "Shut up, Blaise."

"Oh, not very happy, are we?" Blaise continued, completely oblivious as to Malfoy's annoyed warning.

Malfoy attempted to get past Blaise's nonchalantly standing body, but he'd underestimated the size of his frame, effectively being stopped. Malfoy sucked in a breath. "Let me through, you disgrace of a wizard," he snapped, knowing full well he'd be in for retribution later.

"Well, jeez, Malfoy, who stuck their wand up your ass?" Blaise asked, slightly annoyed.

"I said shove off, damn it!" Malfoy retorted angrily, shoving past the dark-eyed sixth year with palpable frustration. "Leave me alone, will you?"

It was hardly a question, but Blaise, being the, to Malfoy, most infuriatingly immature person on the planet, decided to continue with his torturing. "No need to yell," Blaise said calmly, his arms crossed smugly over his chest.

"Would you just get out of my way, Zabini?" Malfoy seethed, Blaise having been planted firmly in front of Malfoy, the smirk never leaving his lips.

"Where were you this morning?" Blaise asked interestedly, ignoring Malfoy's comment. "Crabbe was snoring so loudly I'm surprised Ravenclaw Tower didn't hear it, so I got up but you weren't there. Which begs the question…with whom were you meeting?"

"Who says I met anyone?" Malfoy countered smoothly, taking a collected sip from his still-warm tea. Vaguely, he wondered if the spell Hermione had cast on it made it stay indefinitely hot. A twinge of guilt swirled up through a fissure in his mind, admonishing him to the point where he felt he might have thanked her more for it, but it was soon quashed quite violently, a worm of wonder replacing it: why_ had_ she done it? Seemed the question of the day.

"Oh,_ please_, Malfoy. I'm not so dense I can't put two and two together," Blaise said, affronted. At Malfoy's raised eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "I heard voices, right before you came over here. Yours and a girl's. Who was she?"

Malfoy shifted his weight, pondering his response. The way he saw it, he had two options. He could tell Blaise and endure merciless taunts until the rare occasion would arise that Blaise would shift his mocking. Or, he could lie convincingly and hope Blaise really _was _as dense as he claimed not to be. He decided the second was the better option.

"One of those damned portraits," he lied easily, though part of him kicked himself; a _portrait? Draco, really…_ his inner voice said. _Shut it, _Draco responded angrily. "She was bitching at me for apparently awakening her."

Blaise narrowed his eyes; he obviously didn't trust what Malfoy was saying, but whether it was because he was naturally suspicious of anyone or he really was dubious of Malfoy's proclamation, it wasn't made clear. "A portrait?" Blaise questioned skeptically. "Funny portrait casting spells…which was this one again?"

Malfoy sighed. "You should consider a career in surveillance, Zabini," Malfoy muttered, though it was half-honest. He finally conceded…Blaise would find out sooner or later by some means, and Malfoy knew it wouldn't bode well for him. "Granger. It was Granger," Malfoy said through gritted teeth. He awaited Blaise's reaction with trepidation. "But please spare me the smug smirk. I already feel like crap as it is."

Malfoy could clearly tell Blaise was enjoying this, but he had to admire his restraint; the grin was well-contained, considering the circumstances. "Oh, you two just _happened_ to meet? You sure there isn't some Romeo and Juliet thing going on here?" Blaise asked, but Malfoy let it slide. After all, _he_ sure as hell wouldn't let Blaise get off easily in a similar situation.

"Oh,_please_, Zabini. Granger? Hardly." Malfoy took a sip of his tea again, wincing at the high temperature. "It was a chance meeting that I'd really like to forget if you don't mind."

"You two seemed rather civil for being mortal enemies."

"So what?" Malfoy retorted in as non-childish and scathing as he could manage. "It's early, I had no sleep, neither Potter nor Weasley was with her, and she was being nice enough. Forgive me for wanting to spare my energy. It was simple civility…nothing more. So please _stop_ making a big deal out of it."

"All right, all right, don't get yourself in a tizzy," Blaise mocked, starting to follow Malfoy's quick stride towards the Slytherin dormitories. "I'll let you off this time under the strict excuse that you had a huge lapse in judgment. But know that if it happens again, I swear to you you'll be under deriding duress for the rest of your miserable, half-assed life."

"I can just feel the love, Blaise."

Blaise managed a laugh as they finally came upon the rather ominous-looking embossing of a serpent. "Mudblood," he said soundly, feeling his pureblood pride swelling up inside him—he had to admit the pleasure of how ironic the password was. It was perfect.

He looked sideways at Malfoy, and frowned at the faraway and distracted look on his face, but didn't think much of it. He was a damn male Slytherin for goodness' sake…not Malfoy's shrink. He'd give Malfoy a hard time occasionally, but he wasn't about to delve into things obviously more complicated than they seemed. Malfoy would just have to deal with it alone. Somehow, however, Blaise guessed that wouldn't be too much of a hardship.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning—technically a few hours later—leisurely, but then quickly noticing the lack of something in the room. Or, rather, the lack of six other people normally resting comfortably in their own respective beds. She sat up straight, the last dregs of sleep harshly draining from her mind, as she observed Lavender's and Parvati's carefully made-up beds, two of the other girls' looking as much in disarray as she knew Ron's to be, and the other's indiscernible from all the wizarding gossip magazines, clothes, books, and an array of miscellaneous other items. Were she not completely worried about what was going on, Hermione would have wondered how the girl even found her way to where the sheets were. 

She got out of her bed in a remarkably quick fashion, discarding her sleepwear and exchanging it for her robes in a matter of seconds, and using a handy spell she'd picked up from an idle conversation of Lavender's that caused her hair and teeth brushed, her face splashed with water and made up (in Lavender's case…Hermione hadn't cared much for that "customizable" part of the spell, and so it passed over that portion), allowing for Hermione's morning ritual—when she was running short on time—to go exceptionally faster. For which, today, she was grateful.

She ran downstairs, wary of what the time on the clock said and so choosing to avoid it. When she reached the common room, however, she noted with a slightly embarrassed relief that Lavender and Parvati were rapidly gossiping to each other, one of the girls was sitting by the fire writing something Hermione couldn't decipher, and Seamus and Dean were busy discussing animatedly what sounded exasperatingly like a soccer versus Quidditch comparison, Dean seemingly losing judging by Seamus's increasingly confused frown.

"Hey Parvati. Lavender," Hermione greeted awkwardly, only including Lavender because she didn't want to cause suspicion with Parvati. She had a shrewd but unwanted idea that Lavender was still trying to figure out the reason behind Hermione's clipped departure from a few hours ago. She only hoped Parvati hadn't heard about it.

"Oh, hello, Hermione!" Parvati said happily, to Hermione's internal sigh of respite; either Parvati hadn't been told, or she was covering up to a suspiciously adept level. "Did you have a good rest? You're up later than usual."

"What? Oh, yeah, it was fine," Hermione said distractedly. She was trying to subtly gauge Lavender's opinion, but her face was strangely impassive. "Have—Have either of you seen Harry and Ron lately? And why is everyone down here? Aren't classes going on?"

Parvati exchanged a glance with Lavender, the former's expression slightly concerned. "Are you feeling all right?" Parvati questioned. Hermione raised an eyebrow in response. "It's the weekend, I thought you knew that?"

Hermione wracked her brain, a few seconds later coming to realization—she _hadn't_ known that consciously, but now she thought on it, she wanted to smack herself for being so neglectful. She comforted herself by reasoning that she was still thinking it was yesterday, as the few hours of sleep she'd gotten since her encounter with Malfoy hadn't really done much to make the change from Friday to Saturday.

"Yeah, I guess I had a lapse in date. Sorry," Hermione added, more out of trying to stave off Parvati's worry than actual apology. "So Harry and Ron—?"

"Hmm? Yes, I believe they're at breakfast still. Or, rather, lunch I think," Parvati said. "That was a while ago, though, so I don't know if they're still there."

"It's okay, thanks," Hermione replied, already on her way to the portrait hole and determinedly avoiding eye contact with Lavender. She had things to discuss with Harry and Ron first. Issues with Lavender could wait.

* * *

"Ooh, Draco!" 

Malfoy groaned audibly as he and Blaise walked towards the Slytherin table. Blaise had been down there earlier for breakfast, but Malfoy hadn't quite felt up to it; that and the fact that he ended up awakening around eleven. Apparently Pansy felt that his relative lack of being near her exempted her from the decibel and squeak limit that Draco had force-pressed upon her a while ago. He'd figured that was not only a benefit to him ,but to anyone else who crossed her path as well.

"Pansy, not now." Draco said as they got closer to her, and her face instantly scowled, a look not very attractive, especially considering the not-so-model-worthy way it was usually.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mess with him, Parkinson," Blaise mock-whispered to her, loud enough so Draco could hear. "He's a bit grouchy this morning. Kind of like you, actually, a certain few days each month if you catch my drift."

Draco's face morphed to one of frustration, anger, and wanting to defend himself as he landed a hard punch on Blaise's arm, smirking at the veiled wince Blaise put on. He felt the primal need to go off on either Blaise or someone else, but he felt Blaise really didn't do anything heinous to deserve it. All the same, his hands twitched with anxiousness, and he was unable to stop them.

Pansy scowled even further at Blaise's comment, glaring at him with an expression of utmost loathing. "At least I, unlike you, Zabini, actually _have_ feelings, you overdressed pig," she huffed, barely able to conceal her self-pleased smirk.

"Touché, Parkinson," Blaise replied smoothly, looking down carelessly at his attire. "I think I am overdressed. _However_, at least I can be next to Malfoy here for more than thirty seconds without salivating lasciviously. Now I wonder who _can't_ do that, Parkinson?"

She flushed an odd combination of crimson and fuchsia; the effect wasn't very aesthetically pleasing, to say the least. She opened and closed her mouth a few times as if to retort back to Blaise, but for some reason or another, she couldn't manage to form words around one. So instead, she merely turned on her heel and stormed out of the Great Hall in a frump, leaving both Blaise and Malfoy behind, each trying his hardest not to grin.

"I think you really hurt her with that one, Zabini," Malfoy said a few seconds after Pansy had so obviously left them. "You do realize what you've done, right?"

"A favor?"

"No, you idiot," Malfoy replied, socking Blaise again in the arm—judging by Blaise's dark wince, it was in the same spot as before. "She'll be ranting and raving for _days_! This is all your fault. Great job."

Blaise rolled his eyes, deciding to attribute Malfoy's loud musings to lack of sleep as well as a tarnished conscience. One that owed to actually being civil to someone they normally wouldn't even _ponder_to being civil. Despite the qualifying, however, Blaise had a feeling this afternoon wouldn't be anymore enjoyable than the morning was.

* * *

"Hey, look who it is!" Ron exclaimed gleefully (through a mouthful of soup) to Harry upon seeing the third member of their trio. 

Harry's head snapped over to where Ron was looking, and was unable to contain the grin that spread across his face. He'd sensed something had been bugging Hermione—especially since she hadn't shown up for breakfast—but here she was looking just as Hermione-ish as he'd hoped. Granted, there was still an off look in her eyes, but he passed it off as mere fatigue. He didn't want to be paranoid over something that was probably nothing.

"_There_ you are, Hermione!" Harry expressed, unnecessarily gesturing to a place setting across from him for her to sit. "We missed you this morning."

Hermione flushed shiftily before clearing her throat and sitting down. Ron was too occupied in his food that he didn't notice, but Harry's expression morphed into an unwanted frown.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that, Harry," Hermione said, shooting a quick, disdainful glance towards Ron's atrocious eating habits. To her credit, she sounded sincere. "I just—I just had a lot on my mind is all."

Harry of course, having no idea what kind of things plagued her mind, accepted the answer. By no means was he convinced that was the extent of it—he recognized all too well the too-carefully-veiled cover-up for something bigger, as he'd done it many times himself—but he let it go for now. If something were seriously wrong, Hermione would tell him. He hoped.

"You missed out on an _excellent_ meal, though," Ron interjected, and Hermione's nose wrinkled as he viewed Ron's very uncovered mouth. "House-elves really outdid themselves this time."

Her lips set into a fine line, but she didn't say anything. She was too tired, but also was smart enough to realize Ron would never give it up. "Yes, well…" Hermione settled noncommittally. "I'm glad you enjoyed your morning."

Harry caught the unintended emphasis on 'you,' as well as the stiff way in which Hermione responded, and he tightened his jaw in concentration. He didn't want to look like the friend with the overactive imagination, but he also didn't want her to get hurt or feel like he wasn't perceptive enough after all this while to pick up on her moods. All in all, it was a quite precarious situation in his point of view.

"So, er…what _did_ you do this morning, Hermione?" Harry tested, carefully watching her expression, which, for the moment, remained impassive. He continued guiltily. "Seamus heard from Parvati that you'd disappeared sometime early, and that's why you woke up late."

Her gaze turned dark and icy for a minute, but then shifted so suddenly that Harry was almost convinced it was a trick of the light. Almost. "Gossiping, hmm?" Hermione said, uninterested. "Hadn't pegged Seamus as that type."

Her evading his question was almost frightfully obvious, though apparently not obvious to Ron, who continued eating like Harry and Hermione were merely discussing the weather, not the former desperately trying to decipher her every facial twitch.

"Things change," Harry prompted subtly, slightly inclining his head towards her, beckoning her to continue.

The indecision in her eyes was unmistakable, as well as the ensuing sigh. "I—I went for a bit of a walk," she said carefully. It was true—it just wasn't the only thing that'd happened _on _the walk. "I got back late. Early, as it were."

"Right." Harry said. "He, er, he also mentioned something else…"

"Well you've just had a fine job of talking behind my back, haven't you!" Hermione interrupted, flushing angrily. Harry was surprised to say the least, and Ron even interrupted his chewing to look at her, alarmed. "Why don't you go get third-hand information some more, why don't you!"

She dropped her fork onto her plate with a loud clatter, storming out of the Great Hall and leaving a very mystified number of people behind. Ron and Harry exchanged glances, both wondering what exactly had tipped her over the edge. Unfortunately for the two Gryffindors, it was something that, as of yet, she wasn't ready to divulge. At least not with them.

* * *

**There you have it. Granted, it was a bit later coming than I'd hoped, but this story is technically already done, so I figure "updates" don't really need to come as soon after one another, right? I realize this is shorter than the previous chapters, but I figured it was as good a place as any to stop. **

**If you have any suggestions, modifications, errors, or compliments, I'd be glad to hear (read, rather) them, either by PM or review.**

**Thanks a million, and I hope this massive revamping is to your better satisfaction!**


	6. Zabini And Draco's Damn Pride

**Hey, guys, I'm back again…I sincerely apologize for making you guys wait so long! So, I'm here to write another chapter, that WILL be longer than the rest. But first, thankyous:**

**ladyJaye: **thanks, and you've got to read the chapter to find out if they do! Haha..evil laugh..

**rizahawkeye21: **I'm sorry for leaving it like that! And you'll find out what happens soon enough…

**Sadistically Insane: **yay! You're revieweing all my fics! Yay! Tell me if I'm not returning the favor, okay? Anyway, thanks for doing that and for liking this one!

**HiddenOperaAngel: **trust me…this is a happy chapter…or so it seems…

**missindependent1127: **thanks a lot!

_Flashback_

_He leaned in and grasped her around her small waist with his hand, their touch sending shivers up each other's bodies. She gasped slightly, but then closed the now nearly non-existent gap. Their lips connected for a fleeting second, before…_

"Malfoy!" Blaise Zabini called from around the corner. He stopped, gaping at Draco and Hermione's awkward position. "What in the bloody, blazing hell are you doing! And with a _mudblood!"_

Blaise received low groans from both Draco and Hermione, them separating from their passionate but short embrace. "Nothing! Get off me, Granger!" Malfoy said, firmly but rather gently pushing her away.

She stared at him, her chestnut eyes glaring with hurt and confusion and disappointment. She was speechless. "I—I thought—" she stammered.

"Well you thought wrong!" Malfoy yelled at her, Zabini smirking wildly in the background. As much as insulting Hermione pained Draco inside, he had to keep up his mean and hating exterior appearances.

Hermione stared at him again, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I can't believe you! You are just as everyone says! An ignorant, self-absorbed, muggle-hating, slimy, selfish son of a bitch, Malfoy! You don't deserve to be happy with anyone! You don't deserve anyone's kindness or helpfulness! You are low and inconsiderate and don't care for anything! I thought you changed, Malfoy, but I guess I was sorely mistaken!" she screamed at him, with every single syllable drenched with venom and hate.

Malfoy looked at her, astounded at her sudden outburst. He reluctantly realized internally that she was right…as always. He could see the unbridled pain in her eyes, her small body shaking with fury at him. It was all Zabini's fault, Malfoy thought at first. Then he realized. It was really him. While others may influence your decisions, it is ultimately up to you what to do. No one had that much control over him. And if Draco really was powerful and persuasive, he should be able to do whatever he wants, without worrying what others will think. He was utterly pissed off at himself.

Walking forward slowly, with Blaise's smugness filling the air with intense humidity, he put his cold hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Hermione…" he started.

She looked furtively at his hand for a moment, then pushed him away forcefully so he staggered slightly. "Don't you _dare _touch me, Malfoy! You think I actually like you after all of this? Get the hell away from me and never come near me or my friends again!" she spat vindictively.

He slowly backed away a few feet, Blaise still observing the whole argument. Furiously, Malfoy realized that Zabini was enjoying this. With a split-second decision, Malfoy turned around, with his pale hand smashed into a fist. He pulled back his arm and punched Blaise—hard—in his smirking face. Blaise fell down, head hitting the stone with a sickening crack. He was unconscious.

Hermione stared at Draco with surprise and distaste and impressiveness all at the same time. Shaking her head, she ran up the stairs, her footsteps echoing on the cold tile. Malfoy looked up at her, open mouth to call after her, but thought better of it. He had really made a mess of it this time.

"_She'll never take me for who I am. It's all this damned attitude I have. And my pride. And my…_father." He thought with his face contorted into a grimace and malicious feeling.

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Hermione ran all the way up to her dormitory, tears clouding her vision so she neglected to see all the stares and whispers of "What happened to her?" and the occasional "Hermione? Are you okay?"

She quickly said the password ("Twitterpated"), with the Fat Lady opening fast, but with a concerned look on her oil-painted face. "What is wrong with you, my dear? Are you alright?" she called softly after Hermione.

Hermione sprinted up the stairs and jumped face down on her bed, hands and shoulders lowered in defeat, tears slowly staining her red pillow. Lavender and Parvati happened to be in the room, probably talking about their latest crush and the newest line of makeup.

Confused, they walked over to Hermione's bed, silently, and Lavender absentmindedly Conjured a tissue. "Hermione? What happened? Come on, you can tell us."

Hermione was surprised, but looked up at their concerned faces, Lavender's hair coiled up into an elegant knot, and Parvati's long brown, almost black, sheet of hair gracing her back. Hermione's face was tear-stained, her miniscule amount of eyeliner running ever so slightly. She hiccupped, her face impassive, but her eyes telling the whole story.

"What did Malfoy do to you? He insulted you, didn't he! Oh, I'll kill him!" Parvati said with an anguished and determined look on her perfect face.

"How—_hiccup_—did you—_hiccup_—know?" Hermione said, tears ceasing.

Lavender, incredulously, laughed. "Hermione. Haven't you learned anything?" At Hermione's bewildered expression, Lavender sighed, but continued. "We—that is to say Parvati and I—make it our business to indulge in the inner workings of the female species' minds. We have had much experience in this area, and your eyes, beautiful as they are, tell us exactly what happened.

Parvati nodded her head excitedly in agreement. "Yeah. And we're worried about you. Tell us what happened."

Hermione didn't feel the least bit inclined to enlighten them, but their anxious faces persuaded her. They acted like they actually cared; not only wanting the newest bit of gossip. "Well, you see, it happened like this…" Hermione started, rattling off the entire tale.

Lavender and Parvati sighed, groaned, and gasped at the right moments, intrigued but enraged at Malfoy and Zabini's actions. They truly felt for Hermione, rarely but similarly enduring the same things. Hermione felt immensely better after telling them, taking a deep but wavering breath after she finished. "And that's why I'm in so much pain. Because I really do like him. Despite all that he's done to me." She concluded.

"It's alright, Hermy." Lavender said, but at Hermione's pained and annoyed face, she added, "Er—I mean—Hermione. It's going to be okay. Do you want us to help you? We know all the secrets to guys, and what makes them pissed off. What do you say?"

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Hermione asked, interested.

"Oh. Let's just say we have certain…connections." Parvati said cryptically.

Hermione raised a suspicious eyebrow, but agreed. "If you want to. But on one condition." At Parvati and Lavender's concurring faces, Hermione continued. "You let me in on absolutely everything you are doing, and don't leave anything out."

They approved her request, and started planning their next mental attack on the legendary Slytherins.

**Sorry this wasn't as long of a chapter as I had hoped, but I thought that it wouldn't flow right if I went on. I'll post the next chapter hopefully by tuesday, though I'm not going to make any concrete promises. Remember I love you all, and please keep reviewing if you can! **

**xoxo, **

**luvseanfaris**


	7. Passion, Solacity, and Mystère

**Thanks so much for all of your reviews! Thanks to: missindependent1127, rizahawkeye21 (**omg I love you! thanks**!), HiddenOperaAngel, and jessnlozza.**

_Flashback_

_Hermione raised a suspicious eyebrow, but agreed. "If you want to. But on one condition." At Parvati and Lavender's concurring faces, Hermione continued. "You let me in on absolutely everything you are doing, and don't leave anything out."_

_They approved her request, and started planning their next mental attack on the legendary Slytherins._

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"There is no way I am doing that!" Hermione screeched at her friends' suggestion.

"Aww, come on Hermione! You can resist being the annoying bookworm for a few minutes, can't you?" Lavender pleaded.

"NO! I can't!" Hermione yelled again. "I am not going to look like a fool and an idiot in front of everyone!"

"You want Malfoy to pay for what he did to you, don't you?" Parvati reminded.

"Well, _of course_, I do, Parvati! But not in this way!" Hermione defended.

"What do you suggest then?" Lavender asked.

"I—well—I don't know—I suppose—well…" Hermione stuttered. Lavender and Parvati looked at each other, smirking insanely. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "Fine. What was it you wanted again?"

Her two friends squealed shrilly in delight at Hermione's agreement. They exchanged a look again, and Lavender raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "C'mon, Herm—ione," she corrected, "there are rules that go along with this."

"What! _Rules!" _Hermione shrieked. "What _rules?" _

"One, no mention of books." Parvati started, holding up a hand at Hermione's protest. "_Two, _no mumbling of words then running away. Three, forget the old Hermione, and let the new one embrace you."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief at the feat they were asking of her. "Guys, I can't do this! You know I can't!"

"Hermione." Lavender said, with such a sincere note in her voice that Hermione looked up. "You _can _do this. We—" she motioned to Parvati, who nodded, "—know you can."

Hermione nodded in accepted resignation, and stood up. "Fine. When do you want to do this?"

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Draco Malfoy walked to the Common Room, completely ignoring an unconscious Blaise behind him, even though Blaise was sporting a huge gash on his head, blood trickling out. Reluctantly, Malfoy turned around and muttered, "_Subsisto." _The blood ceased immediately, though Malfoy could still tell he would have a killer headache in the morning. Smirking, he headed off again.

Mumbling, Draco said the password (_Manically pure_), and stared at the flickering fire. Though it was enchanted magnificently, it did little to brighten or warm up the icy room. Draco could even see his breath in the air, which did nothing but immensely worsen his mood. He felt like a failure. He was a failure. She did absolutely nothing to deserve his attitude and rudeness, yet there he was insulting her. Completely denying the Malfoy tradition, he actually felt compassion and sympathy for her.

"Unbelievable." He said to himself, shaking his head. "The moment I screw everything up, I actually have feelings. The irony kills me."

"Hey! Malfoy! Come here! I need to show you something!" Marcus Flint called from the staircase.

"Shove it, Flint." Malfoy retorted, still glaring at the flames.

To Draco's displeasure, Marcus laughed. "Yeah, funny. Come on, Draco!"

Malfoy now tore his eyes from the fire, though one was still burning in his icy blue eyes. "I said," he bit slowly, grinding his teeth, "Shove. It. Up. Your. Ass."

Marcus looked taken aback at Malfoy's bluntness, but still raised an eyebrow in impressiveness at him. "Yeah, whatever, mate." Malfoy, however, could distinctly hear an "Egotistical bastard."

Malfoy shrugged it off, once again taking up his latest interest of staring into the staggering, orange-yellow flames. Strange as it was, the fire reminded him of himself. One minute, flaring up like there's no tomorrow, but the next, spastic and wavering, unsure of whether they will start up again. When he was around both Hermione and his father, he was the former, but for different reasons. In the presence of his father, he had a biting, seething fury, wanting him to suffer; by Hermione, it was all passion and lust and wittiness. Contrarily, when he was by himself, he was the latter. Broken down and honestly wary of whether he could survive more emotional blows in his life.

With one thought, he knew what he wanted. He wanted that passion and intrigue back in his life; he wanted the ability to retort and banter incessantly. He didn't want to live out the rest of his existence wallowing in self-pity and rudeness, making other people suffer at his own pleasure. Right now, he didn't care whether his reputation would be forever wounded, or if his father had to torture him so he was one inch from death. All he wanted…was her.

So, completely unaware of the burning fire licking at his robes, he stood up abruptly, a rush of wind threatening to forever stagger the flames. His cobalt eyes blazing with obsessive salacity, he strode out of the common room, the painting of a stuck-up witch calling swear words after him. Gazing around the desolate castle, and with a look of determination on his pale face, he started up the marble staircase.

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Hermione strode out of the Gryffindor common room, Lavender and Parvati in her wake. She cast a nervous glance back, her two friends smiling encouragingly back at her; Lavender gave her a casual but reassuring wave. With set determination on her face, Hermione walked down the stairs, speech in mind, along with exactly what she was going to do…

"G—Granger!" Malfoy said, just about running into her. He ran a semi-nervous hand through his platinum hair.

"Why, hello, _Draco." _Hermione said seductively.

He gave a look of genuine perplexity, and scrunched up his face. "Uh…right…hey. So, I was, uh, I was looking for you." he said apprehensively.

Hermione took a step forward. "And why were you looking for me?" she said, her face but a mere six inches from his.

"Well, you see…" Malfoy started. _"This is getting ridiculous. I am a _Malfoy _for god sake. Pull it together!" _he chided himself. "I want you, Hermione."

For a second, Hermione forgot her act, but put it on right away again, hoping he didn't catch her change. He didn't. "What a coincidence, Draco. I want you, too." She said, stroking her hand lightly over his jawbone, stopping at his lips.

He again looked at her strangely. "You see, I've been _pining _for you for many weeks now." She continued, walking in a slow circle around him. "You complete me, Draco, and I need that."

She raised an eyebrow, smiling lustfully. "But I have one question, _my love_._" _Hermione said with accent on her last words.

"Um…okay…" Malfoy said uncomfortably. He cleared his throat as his eyes searched hers for some sign of deceit or maliciousness.

She stepped closer so she was right next to his ear. "How does it feel…to be…_played?"_

His eyes widened, as she stepped back and smiled. She wore a look of amusement on her face. "Wha—What?" he stuttered.

"Oh yes, Draco, you see, you didn't really think I would let you get by with what you did, did you?" Hermione said sweetly.

"I—uh—I—" he stammered.

"_Ludius Petrificus!" _Hermione said, pointing her wand at his face. Immediately he glowed acid-green, then returned to normal. "Now everyone will know the player…got played. By a Mudblood no less, correct?" Hermione said vindictively.

Draco looked down at himself, confused, for he didn't see anything different. "What the hell did you do, Granger!" he yelled.

"Oh, just a little charm I found the other day. It will force you to tell everyone you see exactly what you said, felt, and did for the previous 48 hours. Good luck!" she smiled again, sauntering off. She could feel his furious but frightened glare on her retreating back, but was pleased with herself just the same.

**I think this was a bit longer for you guys. Well, I hope it is anyway, and I hope you like it. I just wanted to update faster for you all. You know what to do if you want to, so I won't keep you. love you all!**


	8. Reputations To Uphold

**Haha, thanks so much rizahawkeye! You reviewed like only 15 minutes after I posted! Yay! Lol, here's another for you, and I think it's longer! Also thanks to: princess-kristi, rick46, debarie, and Mrs Pierre Bouvier (thanks for reviewing this one as well as my tr/hg!)**

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_Flashback_

"_Ludius Petrificus!" Hermione said, pointing her wand at his face. Immediately he glowed acid-green, then returned to normal. "Now everyone will know the player…got played. By a Mudblood no less, correct?" Hermione said vindictively._

_Draco looked down at himself, confused, for he didn't see anything different. "What the hell did you do, Granger!" he yelled._

"_Oh, just a little charm I found the other day. It will force you to tell everyone you see exactly what you said, felt, and did for the previous 48 hours. Good luck!" she smiled again, sauntering off. She could feel his furious but frightened glare on her retreating back, but was pleased with herself just the same._

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As soon as Hermione was out of Malfoy's line of sight, she sprinted all the way up to Gryffindor tower. Panting the password ("_Periphilus"_), she scrambled in, leaning her back against the stone-hard wall. Breathing heavily, her heart pounding in her chest, she sighed. Lavender and Parvati came running down the stairs so fast that Hermione thought they must have Apparated there.

"So, tell us, Hermione!" Lavender squealed. She and Parvati looked like they were going to die from anticipation.

"Come on Herm! Spill!" Parvati urged, completely forgetting of how Hermione hated that 'nickname'.

"Alright, alright, calm down you two. It really wasn't all that interesting." Hermione said, moving to go up to the dormitories, but stopped by her friends.

"Ah, ah, ah. Don't think you'll get rid of us that quickly, Hermione." Lavender apprehended.

Hermione sighed in defeat. "Okay, well, you see, I did everything you suggested…" she trailed. Looking at their encouraging faces, she continued, "And then I hexed him."

They looked aghast. "You didn't!" Lavender exclaimed in shock. "But he—he's—he's—"

Hermione knew what she was going to say. She was going to say he was handsome, and how could Hermione mar such a beautiful being? "It's okay, Lavender. It didn't to anything to his physical appearance."

Lavender sighed in relief. "It's just a little spell that causes him to relive basically everything from the past two days—feelings, events, and what he has said. It should be quite amusing."

She looked stricken for a moment, then joined in Parvati's hysterical laughter. Hermione started, too, excited to see what would happen when they met up with him.

------------------------------

Malfoy stared after her for a great many moments, before he realized his mouth was hanging open in astonishment. He couldn't believe she had done that. How could she? He had told her he wanted her, and she rubbed it in his face! Then again, however, he actually deserved it, many times over. Still, this was really low. Yet ingenious. He didn't think he would have ever thought of that complex of a spell.

Malfoy suddenly stopped, as he reached the annoying witch's portrait. She shouted at him for running into her, but he just swore at her while muttering the password. Stepping inside, he ceased walking, and put on just about the biggest smirk ever.

"Malfoy! You tell me right now what the hell you did to me!" screamed a furious Blaise Zabini.

"Me? Why would I do anything to you, Zabini?" Malfoy said so sarcastically, that he thought he would start laughing.

"What did you—you know perfectly well what you did! Damn it Draco, that hurt! You wait until I tell Pansy about you and _Granger."_

"You wouldn't."

"Would so. What'd you do after you knocked me out, anyway?"

"I—" Draco started. He felt his lips moving still, but no sound was coming out. He then felt a sudden dropping sensation like he had just skipped a stair and almost fell. A wave of pain then overwhelmed him, immediately followed by a tingling feeling all over his body. "I told her I wanted her because I think I really, really like her. She did this funny fake seductiveness thing to me, and I got all nervous and felt like I wanted to kiss her. Then she performed this weird spell on me, but I can't remember what it did." He confessed monotonously.

Malfoy suddenly slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. _"Damn it, Granger!" _he thought. _"This must be the spell. This is going to be a hell of a lot harder than I thought. I have to go see what that does to people!"_

Draco ran out of the common room before Zabini could smirk any wider, rushing off to the Library. Granger would pay oh so badly.

------------------------------

Skidding into the Library and almost falling from slipping on the rug, Draco ran into the center of it, and looked around frantically. He had no idea where to look. The spell could be _anywhere! _He decided to start in the A-G section, though sighing miserably at his dim chances of ever finding the spell.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice when someone came up behind him and placed freezing cold hands over his eyes. "Guess who!" the voice said. It was shrill, high, an extremely annoying.

Draco groaned in disbelief at how bad his luck was. "Get away from me, Pansy."

She slowly took her hands away from his, staring at him with a look of confusion and adoration. "B—But—But _Draco!" _she whined. "I thought—we—we _had _something!"

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "You know, this is almost amusing? But since you won't leave, I must. Later, Pansy." He said, leaving her in his wake.

He really didn't want to leave, because the book he needed was in there, but she left him no choice. What was he to do now? He stopped to think. He could wait outside the Library, skulking around, waiting for her to leave…he could just leave and wait out the spell in his dormitory…or he could go and find Hermione to see if she would fix him; of course, she might just hex him again.

As he was weighing his chances, he heard footsteps around the corner. Not wanting to get caught and have to spill his last two days out to the world, he ran into the nearest classroom he could find, slightly out of breath. He then groaned for what seemed like the billionth time that day, for what he heard behind him was small applause.

He turned around reluctantly. "Well, well, well, Malfoy. What do we have here?"

"Granger. What in the blazing fires of hell did you do to me!" he demanded.

"Oh, she explained all about it to us, Malfoy. Not to you?" Lavender said, coming out from the shadows. Parvati followed suit.

"You have got to be kidding me! You brought…you brought…_them_ with you?" Malfoy spluttered.

"Oh, yes, Draco. You see me, unlike you, have friends. And me, unlike you, do not have a reputation to uphold. Well, besides being the best in our year, that is. Lastly, me, unlike you, have the upper hand here. So…what is your next move, Malfoy?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrow.

"I—I—well—you know—I was planning to—well—" he stammered.

All three girls gave him "keep going!" looks, but he just stood there, transfixed. He could not believe she did this to him! Of all the things she could have done…hexed him…taunted him…outdone him in Potions (well, maybe not that)…anything! But threatening to ruin his legendary reputation? Now that was low.

"You wouldn't dare, Granger." He decided to go with the intimidation route, putting on his best smirk he could muster up, considering the dire circumstances.

"Wouldn't I?" she said in a sickly-sweet voice. She smirked almost as well as him, if not better. What was even worse is that Lavender and Parvati mimicked her.

He suddenly got angry. "Granger! What is it exactly that has caused you to do this to me! You do realize who I am, don't you! You do realize what I can _do _to you, don't you!" he yelled.

He got more infuriated at her when she didn't even look surprised at his outburst. "Oh, yes, Draco. I know exactly who you are. And what gets you pissed off. And what you do to try and taunt and intimidate me. You see…I have you wrapped around my little 'Mudblood' finger more than you think, Draco Lucius Malfoy." She said manipulatively.

He stared at her with the biggest amount of loathing flashing in his dangerously blue eyes. "You have no idea what you have gotten yourself into, Mudblood."

To his sincere surprise, Hermione laughed hysterically. "And what," he said through clenched teeth which were threatening to crack under the pressure, "is so goddamn funny!"

She continued on for a bit until she caught her breath. "It's just—you actually—"

He began to get impatient. "SPIT IT OUT, GRANGER!" he yelled.

"You actually _thought _for one minute that I actually care that you call me that?" she said, not for one second losing her amused expression.

"I—" he started. He had thought she cared. _"Damn it." _He thought. _"Now I have to think of something new. This is _really _going to be a hell of a lot harder than I anticipated."_

"So, by the way," Parvati asked, scaring Draco out of his wits, "how has your day been going? For sure you've met someone along the way by now?"

"What's it to you?" he asked with a sneer.

"Just for my own enjoyment. Well, actually Lavender and Hermione's, too. So, have you?"

"Maybe." He said dismissively.

All three girls laughed, only angering him more. His rage level was getting dangerously high now. "Well, there's our answer, right girls?" Parvati said, looking at them, who nodded.

Hermione laughed again, then tried to cease it. "What do you say we leave little Drakie-kins alone, now, huh?" she asked in a sing-song voice.

He scowled severely, shaking his head in disbelief. Now this was just downright humiliating. He would have to do some die-hard thinking to come out of this one alive.

**So? I dunno if this is as short as the others, but I couldn't think this late at night. Tell me what you think, and I'll update as soon as I can!**


	9. The Dream And The Date

**Thanks everyone, and I'm sorry I havent updated for a while, but I was on a writing spree for my tom/Hermione. I'll try to get some more chapters out simultaneously. For now, thanks to:**

**Missindependent1127 (**you'll just have to wait to find out…**), Mrs Pierre Bouvier, hermionegranger2007, Secret Murderer (**haha, thanks!**), rizahawkeye21** thank you sooo much as always!**), LadyJaye, me, and princess-kristi.

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Hermione couldn't help but feel a little pang of guilt in her heart, even though Malfoy deserved every bit of what he got. He had seemed so sincere when he told her he liked her…she was almost thinking he was serious…but he couldn't be. This is _Malfoy _we are talking about! The cold, heartless, immature jerk that couldn't care less about anything. However, to be truthful, Hermione had that nagging feeling that he was actually being genuine when he had confided in her.

She watched Lavender and Parvati snicker as they walked out the door. Hesitating, Hermione stayed behind for a minute. "Malfoy?" she asked quietly.

He turned to her, giving her a murderous glare. She wasn't frightened, but it unnerved her a little. "What." He spat.

"I—I just wanted to—to know if, you know, if y-you were being honest when you said you had l-l-liked me y-yesterday." She stumbled.

His eyes quickly flashed a look of sincerity and confusion in them, but it was so fast that Hermione very well could have imagined it. "It doesn't really matter now, does it Granger? I'm still cursed, you're still mad, and my reputation that has been upheld for seven years is permanently destroyed. So, when you really look at it, what I said has no effect on anything." He said.

Hermione, however, noticed he never really answered her question. "I suppose not." She said softly. "But would you do me the favor of actually telling me if you do have feelings for me?"

His face turned to a sneer. "Feelings? Of course, Granger." At this, her face both lit up and was embarrassed at the trouble she had caused for no reason. "Feelings of hatred. Like you? Perhaps in your wildest dreams, but not in mine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have people to meet to try to salvage any part of my crumbling image. Later, Granger."

She felt a burning sensation at the back of her eyes, but no tears fell, despite the sadness she was feeling. "Yeah. Later." She said, more to herself than to him.

She stared at his retreating body, as she pondered the great mistake she had made. Maybe he _was _telling the truth when he said he had feelings for her. Well, other than feelings that he hated her very existence, of course. Shaking her head, she followed Lavender and Parvati up the stairs, running to keep up with them.

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One out of eye- and earshot of Hermione, Draco sprinted as fast as he could towards the Slytherin dorms. It had taken all his self-restraint to not reach out and kiss Hermione right then and there on the lips. And he had a lot of self-restraint. He could not stand—what're their names? Lavender and Parvati…yes, that was it. All snickering and insulting him. He had gotten so angry at everyone when he was in the room with them—he could not help it.

Yet, he was greatly surprised when Hermione had chosen to stay behind and consult him. He tried his best to be cold and selfish towards her, to keep up his hard and well-kept appearance. It was when he saw hurt, frustration, and sadness reflected in her light, chestnut eyes that had really gotten to him. Which, in all actuality, frightened him more than anything. The fact that he had actually felt something deep down. Seven years and not a glimmer of emotions in his cold heart, yet in one moment he was overcome with it. It was enough to be unsettling to anyone.

"_Ignorance." _He mumbled quietly to the portrait of the witch.

"Obviously." She said scathingly. He gave her a glare which shut her up, causing her to scramble into another painting.

"Zabini, I am in no mood, so drop it." Malfoy said before Blaise could get even one word out.

"Oh yeah? And why would that be?" Blaise asked.

"Because you exist, to put it simply."

"Wow. Really witty, Malfoy. I can completely see why you were made Head Boy. All intelligence." Zabini said, every word drenched in extreme sarcasm.

"Shove it."

"Granger on your mind? You know, she is rather good-looking, if you know what I mean. Maybe I should go after her…I wonder if she'd like me more than you? Probably."

Malfoy's eyes glittered perilously with rage. "Why not go try it then, Zabini? It'd at least cause me to laugh for one time today. You know what? How about you go right now? If you hurry, you might catch her."

Blaise smirked. "Alright. Thanks for the encouragement, Draco. See you."

He strode out the portrait, with an air of arrogance. "I wasn't serious, Zabini!" Malfoy yelled after him. Unfortunately, Blaise either didn't or chose not to hear him.

"DAMN IT!" Malfoy swore loudly.

He sat in one of the extraordinarily hard green-and-silver armchairs, the smoldering fire doing nothing to help warm up the room. Rather pointless, in his opinion. Running his hands through his blonde hair, he really reflected on his life. When you got right down to it, there was no perks or high points in it. All rules and evilness, no happy moments or sentimental feelings. No forgiveness for small mistakes, and always having to uphold "The Malfoy Name". It was finally getting too much for him.

Reaching behind the stone fireplace, he found a cupboard. Reaching into it, he pulled out a ceramic bowl. His mother had sent it to him in case of emergency. Grabbing a handful of the powder inside, he took a deep breath and threw some in the fire. It immediately turned a bright emerald green, and he abruptly stuck his head in the flames, though keeping his knees planted firmly on the rather hard ground.

"Malfoy Manor!" he yelled clearly. He felt an unpleasant _whooshing _sensation, and had to close his eyes from the dizziness. Immediately he was met with the living room of his mansion. "Father! I must speak with you!" he shouted into the house. It gave off a supernatural ghostly sound.

With a sharp _pop!_, his father appeared, looking rather livid. "DRACO! What did I tell you about interrupting me!" Lucius reprimanded.

Draco ignored him. "Father, I cannot do this anymore. It is too much for me to handle." He said firmly.

"Well, Draco, unfortunately you have no choice, my slippery son. You will and you must keep up appearances. I will not have you disgracing the Malfoy name! Do you hear me? Or you will face the consequences!" he threatened hazardously.

Draco downcast his eyes. "Yes, Father." He said softly, pulling his head out of the fire, not wishing to notice his father's smirking, triumphant grin.

* * *

"Hermione! The look on his face was absolutely _priceless!" _Lavender squealed.

"Yeah. It sure was." Hermione said quietly.

"Hey—Granger!" a deep voice called behind Hermione.

She whirled around, excited. Seeing who it was, she rolled her eyes. "It's okay, guys, go on. I'll be a while. But, you know, insulting two Slytherins in one day! This'll be fun…" she said deviously.

Lavender and Parvati waved goodbye as they stepped in the portrait. "Granger! You're one tough girl to catch up with, you know that?" Blaise complimented, catching his breath.

"Great. What do you want, Zabini?" she asked exasperatingly.

"Well, I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to go out sometime. You know, since we've never really gotten to know each other before." He asked casually.

Hermione looked skeptical as she raised an eyebrow. "And what random thought has gone through your thick skull to make you think I would like to go out with you? Perhaps there is a _reason _we haven't gotten to know each other?"

"Yes, well, to be perfectly honest, I've always wanted to get to know you." he said, rather seductively.

Hermione found herself blushing slightly, the reason completely escaping her. She screwed up her face in consideration. "Alright. I suppose one date couldn't hurt."

They both smiled, as he walked off. Little did they know that someone else was watching.

* * *

"Hermione! We overheard you talking to Blaise! I can't believe he just asked you out! You are _so _lucky!" Parvati and Lavender exclaimed shrilly as Hermione came in.

"Why?" Hermione asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Because he's only the most desirable Slytherin in our year, of course!" Parvati said in an "everyone knows _that" _voice.

"You mean, apart from Draco Malfoy." Lavender injected, a dreamy look on her face.

"Well, if you want the stuck-up, 'I'm better than you' look, then yeah." Parvati contradicted.

"Yeah? What's special about Blaise Zabini?"

"_Please. _He's got that whole 'tall, dark, and handsome' thing down in spades!"

"So? Draco has everything down in spades!"

Hermione slipped past the arguing girls undetected. She could not believe that they went from squealing excitedly of how she got asked out by Blaise to quarrelling over who was the cuter guy—Malfoy or Zabini. She sat down on her bed, still listening to the sweet, sultry sounds of a now heated argument from downstairs. Taking a deep breath, she pondered over her life. She didn't even realize she had fallen asleep.

"_Hermione, there's something I must tell you." Blaise said seriously._

"_Yes, my darling? What is it?" Hermione answered dreamily._

"_The only reason I asked you out was so Malfoy would get jealous. He really likes you, you know."_

_Hermione burst into tears. "MALFOY? He likes me? I—I don't believe you! H—How could you!"_

_She got up and ran away from him, who was sinisterly smirking in the background. In her teary-eyed confusion, she ran into someone. She looked up to see astonishingly icy-blue eyes, as she backed away from the chest of solid muscle she had collided with. It was Draco Malfoy._

"_NOOO! Not Malfoy! Not you!" she yelled as she ran away from him too. He and Blaise exchanged smirks, as Hermione continued to sob._

"Herm? Hermione, are you okay, sweetie?" Lavender rushed over to Hermione's bed.

"Not…not Malfoy…not him…" she moaned.

"Sweetie, you're okay. Come on, Hermione, wake up!" Parvati added, coming over.

Lavender shook her lightly, and Hermione's eyes fluttered open. "W—What? What are you guys doing here?" she asked, still recovering from her nightmare.

Parvati and Lavender exchanged worried glances. "Hermione, you were talking in your sleep. You were saying something about Malfoy?" Lavender asked worriedly.

"I—I was?" Hermione questioned.

"_Not again." _she thought. _"Now they _really _think I like him. Perfect. And on top of all that, I had a nightmare of my and Zabini's date. Just lovely."_

"It was nothing. Sorry." Hermione mumbled apologetically.

"Well, okay, Herm. Just don't scare us like that again, alright?" Parvati said.

"Yeah, I promise. I'm going to go for a walk, you guys. I'll be back in a bit." Hermione stated, getting up.

She walked out of the portrait hole, to the Fat Lady calling after her "You're not supposed to be out of bed this late, young lady!" to which Hermione just spat, "And you're supposed to be asleep!"

But as soon as Hermione turned around, she found her mouth was now occupied with someone's lips. Oddly enough, she didn't squirm, but found herself returning the passionate, sweet embrace.

**I'm sure you all know who it is, right? Again, sorry it took so long to write this, but another chapter will be up hopefully by tomorrow or Christmas. xoxoxoxoxo!**


	10. Blazing Passions

**Thanks to: Moonstone, dwntwndanbrwn, missindependent1127 (**thanks!**), Secret Murderer (**don't worry…snape will NEVER be a romantic person in ANY of my stories!**), and Mrs Pierre Bouvier (**thanks again for reviewing my stories!

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Hermione was still deeply engaged in the sweet and extremely passionate kiss. She hadn't had her eyes open for long enough to realize who it was. It had never started out innocent—hungry, desirable and provocative, never ceasing in intensity. He gave off a chilling air, yet his lips defied everything by being almost unbearably warm and inviting. She found herself enjoying the kiss just about too much, but could not possibly get enough of it, even in her dizziest dreams. The air around them seem to be positively brimming with electricity, and Hermione felt it heat up around them. It seemed like it urged them to want more, and they were more than happy to oblige. Hermione barely noticed that his tongue was now inside her mouth, but found she did not care in the slightest. In fact, she returned the passion and heat with all of her being.

He almost forcefully took her waist, pulling her in closer to deepen the already exhilarating kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lacing her fingers through his hair, finding it inviting and slightly mysterious. He lightly traced his hand up her back, sending shivers up and down her spine. He felt her twitch as his touch, and he smiled into their kiss. In the back of her mind, she hazily wondered exactly who it was that was giving her these intoxicatingly gorgeous kisses. As she got lost in his romantic, profound caressing contact with her mouth again, that thought was hastily shrugged away.

She suddenly realized that she had been backed up against the wall in a secluded corner. Feeling she was supported, she braced herself against it, and straddled his waist, wrapping her legs around him. He inhaled slightly at the slightly extra weight, but did not pull away. She felt him pull away as he trailed his mouth down her neck and onto her collarbone. She started intertwining her fingers in his hair again, and felt that it was rather slick, as though gelled. Her heart starting to beat faster, she snapped open her eyes. Though it was dark, she could recognize that platinum blonde hair color anywhere. Gasping and extricating herself from him with surprising agility, she started backing away, though his sweet warmth and taste was still lingering on her lips.

She started breathing heavily, and looked up at him. He stared back at her with a mix of shamefulness and fiery heat in his icy eyes all at once. She was five feet away from him now, before she realized she couldn't move back anymore. Looking behind her, she realized she was backed up against a column. Groaning in disbelief, she took a deep breath.

"M-Malfoy? What in the HELL do you think you are doing! Pretending to like me is one, but accosting me right outside of the Gryffindor Tower? Now that's low, even for you!" she yelled, her face getting red, not out of anger, but of embarrassment. Mainly at herself, for _enjoying _the kiss. It had been wonderful…

"Granger." He breathed. "I wouldn't say it was only me enjoying it, would you?" he said.

She now flushed bright crimson. "I—well—you know, I—well—beside the point—" she rambled.

"Look, Granger, I'm sorry for getting mad at you the other day, but I assure you, with all the honesty in my heart, that it was just to keep up appearances. I didn't really mean a word of it." He confessed seriously, looking into her eyes the whole time, unwavering.

She swallowed in consideration. Searching his eyes for some sign of his untruthfulness, she came upon the fact that he might actually be genuine. And he was right—she definitely had enjoyed the kiss. She blushed furiously at the thought. Her mind was waging a war with itself now. Maybe he was just keeping up appearances in front of Blaise. Maybe _Blaise _was the one who was leading her into falsehood by asking her out. Maybe he was trying to make Draco jealous!

"I—Malfoy, you know I—we—I—" she stuttered again, unable to form sentences.

He stepped closer, so they were now only a foot apart. She risked a glance into his desirous eyes. She had to look away from his intense stare. "Hermione." He whispered.

Her heart missed a beat, and she let out the small breath she was unnoticeably holding. "Wha—What did you say?" she asked carefully.

"Hermione." He repeated slowly, strikingly.

"But, Malfoy, your…your…your father!" she exclaimed, one level away from a whisper. She expected to see a flicker of anger or resentment towards her, but found a smiling, disbelieving look.

"Yeah? What about him?" Malfoy asked sincerely, though he was smirking.

"Well—he—" Hermione started, finding herself incapable to find a reason.

Draco laughed quietly. "Yes, I have that effect on people." He said cockily.

"Shut up." Hermione replied playfully.

"Gladly." He murmured intimately.

She knew what he was going to do a split second before he did it. Realizing it was now or never, and he would do it anyway, she gave in to her indulgent and daring side of her personality. He brushed his lips lightly and carefully down on hers, as if apprehensive that she would turn away again. Raising an eyebrow felt only by her, she aggrandized forcefully with a craze and enthusiasm she never knew she had. Why not indulge her cravings?

He, at first, seemed taken aback by her sudden and unexpected fervor, but met up with her with matching adoration and power. She was enjoying every minute of this. She didn't care if he had been her mortal enemy for the past six years of schooling. She didn't care that he was a Malfoy. She didn't give a damn that this would probably bite her in the end. All she cared about was building upon this kiss that already defied the laws of ecstasy, eroticism, and arduous lust. By dominating his previous skills of intimate connections and feelings. Nothing could ruin this moment for her now. Nothing except…

"Hermione?"

She groaned into Draco's mouth, unwilling to separate. She finally did, much to their dismay, and turned around. "_Yes?" _she asked, possibly more irate than she intended, but furiously annoyed all the same.

"We—well, we were just wondering where you went."

"I-said-I-would-be-going-for-a-walk. I-said-I'd-be-back-in-a-while." Hermione emphasized through clenched teeth. She could feel rather than see Draco tense up beside her. Unconsciously, she took comfort in it.

"You know, I too must wonder what is going on here." A second voice announced, coming out of the dim shadows.

This time it was Draco that groaned, though Hermione was consternated just the same. "Blaise." Draco said, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"Blaise? Zabini?" Lavender asked, a tone of amusement and intrigue in her voice.

Draco and Hermione looked at each other in confusion and trepidation. Blaise looked at Lavender sideways and raised a dark eyebrow. "You're a Gryffindor, right?" he questioned, though no note of a sneer was evident, which surprised everyone.

Lavender looked flattered. "Yeah, I am." She perused him with her eyes, although all parties present noticed.

"Think we can get out of here without them noticing?" Draco whispered quietly to Hermione, so only she could hear him.

"I don't know. They do seem rather preoccupied." Hermione agreed. She looked at him. "Well, no harm in trying. Oh! I have an idea."

He arched both his light eyebrows to encourage her. "Mind you," she continued, "I haven't exactly done this before…"

"Just hurry up before they break eye contact!" Draco hissed warningly.

"Okay!" she replied. "_Velirius!" _she said, while tapping Draco lightly on the head with her wand.

He gasped at the cold sensation. "What did you do?" he asked her questioningly, while observing her satisfied smirk.

"Watch…_velirius!" _she whispered again, this time tapping herself on the head. She looked down at her body, again satisfied.

He gave her the "go on!" stare again. "It—It's called a Disillusionment Charm." She confessed. "Harry told me how Moody performed it on him last summer."

He nodded, though Hermione could see his face barely scrunched up at the mention of Harry's name. After all, even if Draco _did _like Hermione, he would always be enemies of Harry. Slowly, while still watching Lavender and Blaise look at each other, Draco held Hermione's hand and they walked silently around Zabini. He led her to the entrance of the Fat Lady portrait.

"Well, this is where we say goodbye I suppose." Malfoy said, a tone of sadness apparent to Hermione.

"Yeah." She whispered back.

They both leaned forward at the same time, and although they were both Disillusioned, they found each other's lips just the same. Exchanging a quick but passionate kiss, he reluctantly let go of her hands, leaving her there, invisible.

"Firmament." Hermione said quietly to the guardian of the Common Room.

"Who's there!" the Fat Lady asked, terrified and looking around.

"Shhh!" Hermione hissed.

"Hermione?" Lavender inquired, looking to where Hermione and Draco had stood, tearing her gaze away from Blaise who was doing the same thing.

"It's Hermione! Just let me in, please! _Firmament!" _she said quickly.

"Yes, alright then." The Fat Lady agreed, though rather disconcertedly.

Hermione breathed a "Thanks!", as she rushed into the Common Room. "_Appareo!" _Hermione said, while again tapping herself on the head. Her eyes then widened. She had forgotten to counter-charm Draco!

"_Well, if he doesn't figure out how to do it, I'm sure he will by tomorrow, or at least when I tell him…" _Hermione thought, though it didn't help ease her mind much.

Hearing voices right outside the portrait, Hermione Summoned her favorite book (Hogwarts, A History), and jammed herself into an armchair, flipping to a random page, pretending she was immersed in it.

"Lavender!" she said, though her voice was higher than she would have liked, and her heart was beating uncomfortably fast. "What brings you here?"

She was met by the most accusatory and angry glare she had every seen from Lavender. Hermione shrank farther into the armchair, though unable to stray her thoughts from Draco's kiss…

* * *

**Okay, I know, I'm rude by leaving it there, but I have to. I was thinking of having Hermione kiss someone else, but you all would kill me if it wasn't Draco. I'm pretty content with this chapter, and I hope you are too, because this one actually was not written at 4 in the morning! **


	11. Classes And Detours

**Thanks to: Moonstone, missindependent1127 (**I want a kiss like that too…**), rizahawkeye, LadyJaye, Secret Murderer (**you'll find out about Blaise and Lavender…**), angieanaconda (**yes, I'll include harry and ron**), HiddenOperaAngel, debarie, marajade64 (**thanks so much for reviewing ALL chapters!**), and hermionegranger2007.

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"Hermione! HER-MI-O-NE!" Lavender yelled.

Hermione jumped out of fright at Lavender's voice in her ear. "What?" she asked, still startled.

"Where did you and Malfoy go?"

"Well, _I've _been here the whole time," Hermione lied, "but what about you and your hot new obsession…_Blaise_?"

Lavender flushed horribly. "What? Where's Blaise?" Parvati asked hurriedly, skipping the last three stairs.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Lavender. "Um—what do you—Blaise? Why would I know where—why do you want to know?" Lavender stuttered.

Parvati had a look of disappointment in her eyes, but also a knowing smile. "I told you that you were out of your mind not to like him."

Lavender seemed to ponder her possible answers, then after a few moments, she let out a confessional sigh. "Alright, you win! He is completely and utterly charming and handsome and plainly delicious!"

Parvati and Hermione smiled happily. "I told you!" they both said. Lavender seemed to cheer up a bit after that.

"Well, now we just have to find me someone. Since obviously Hermione is afflicted with Malfoy, and Lavender with Blaise…" Parvati got glaring looks from the other two, but they couldn't deny it. "What do you think about Adrian?"

They stared at her in shock for a few minutes, but Lavender broke the silence. "He is cute. And he's Quidditch captain. Chaser, isn't he? And, hey, you'd be going with our Slytherin trend!"

Hermione nodded slowly. "He's alright, I'll give you that. But wasn't he the one that cursed Alicia? I don't know if you should date him, Parvati." She said warily.

"Oh, hush, Hermione. Lavender and I,—" she put her arm around Lavender's shoulders, "—are _experts _at getting what we want."

"If you're sure. Well, guys, I'm off to bed. I'll see you tomorrow." Hermione said, yawning.

She did go up into her dormitories, but not without waiting a few minutes to see what her two friends would talk about. She left almost immediately, however; all their conversation had to do with was talking about various body parts of both Adrian and Blaise. She lay down on her bed, trying to go to sleep, but all her mind could think about was his kiss…

* * *

"Malfoy! Wait up." Blaise said after he watched Lavender go inside. "Mate, I know you're there, even if you are Disillusioned. Just stop where you are; I know the counterspell."

Malfoy did indeed stop, but to alert his presence to Blaise, he took pleasure in punching him hard on the shoulder. "Oh really." He said disbelievingly.

Blaise rubbed his shoulder, but didn't wince. He smirked, but muttered, "_Appareo."_

Draco felt a warm sensation go through his body, and, looking down, found himself in his jeans and Slytherin robes. "So do you have a thing with Gryffindors, Zabini?" he asked cynically.

"What? No thanks?" Blaise replied, his voice drenched with sarcasm. Malfoy gave him a glare. "And what do you mean by 'do I have a thing with Gryffindors'?"

"Well, first Weasley, then Brown…and who knows who else you've charmed." Malfoy listed off.

"Hey! I never said I liked Ginny!"

"You said you thought she was—and I quote—'stunningly beautiful'. How poetic, Zabini."

Blaise blushed lightly, though it was evident in the orange glow of the candles. "Now that's unfair. She is pretty gorgeous. Even you have to admit it."

"Do not."

"Well how about Granger then, hmm? What's so special about her?" Zabini said as a last resort, but pleased that he had struck a nerve.

"Shut it, Zabini." Malfoy said, walking briskly away.

Blaise laughed hysterically at Malfoy's retreating back. "I KNEW IT, MALFOY! YOU'LL NEVER GET HER!"

Malfoy shrugged it off, but couldn't help thinking, _"What if Granger does forget about tonight? Will she be back to annoying and insulting me? Will _I _be back to my stuck-up self?"_

He fell into a fitful sleep once he got back to the Common Room, but his mind was still plagued by those disturbing thoughts.

* * *

Hermione groggily got up, just to find out that she had overslept. She had only about 20 minutes to get dressed, eat breakfast, and get all the way down to the Ancient Runes corridor. She ran down to the Great Hall, where she found Harry and Ron avidly discussing various Quidditch supplies.

"—new 'oom! 'Oo 'ave to get it, 'Arry!" Ron said through a mouthful of eggs.

"I dunno, Ron. Mine is fine, don't you think?" Harry said apprehensively.

"Yeah, well, maybe. So have you tried out the Wronski Feint thing yet on your Firebolt?" Ron asked, fascinated.

"No, not yet. I'm afraid I'll swallow the Snitch again. That wasn't very fun." Harry said, coughing.

"Hey guys!" Hermione greeted, still catching her breath.

"'Ermione!" Ron replied, this time spilling orange juice down his front.

"RON! Is it really that hard to not eat and talk at the same time?" Hermione scolded, her hands on her hips.

"Don't push it, Hermione." Harry said, just finishing his bacon, though she noticed he had waited until after he swallowed to answer her.

"I can't eat much, but would one of you want to hand me a piece of toast?" Hermione asked, sitting down.

She reached out her hand when Ron picked up one, but she gave him a disgusted look as he just bit into it. "Here, Hermione." Harry said, trying to head off an argument he knew would happen and handing her one.

"Why, thank you, _Harry." _Hermione replied, still glaring at Ron. "I mean, is it so hard for you to be nice for a change?" she directed at Ron.

Harry threw up his hands in frustration, retrieving his bag and getting up. "I'll see you in Divination, Ron." He said, but no one noticed.

"You can just get it yourself!" Ron defended.

"Oh, really? And I suppose the fact that I'd have to reach over the table is of no consequence?"

"Yeah! Just _Summon _it, if you're so good at spells!"

"Maybe I will Summon a Shrinking Potion to deflate your huge head!"

"I wouldn't be talking!"

"Oh, now what is that supposed to mean? Nevermind. I'm off to a useful subject, Ronald Weasley! Good luck with the old fraud!" she said in a huff, storming away, before she realized they didn't have Trelawney this term, but she couldn't go back now.

Draco took his chance. "Later, guys." He said to a smirking Zabini and a pining Pansy, of which the former saw where Malfoy was going.

"Hey! Granger, wait up!" he called after her.

"Save it, Ronald!" she said, quickening her pace.

"I'm not Weasel, Granger. Can't you tell?" he said, trying to emphasize his voice.

She whirled around, brushing a stray hair out of her face. "Malfoy?"

"Now is it so hard to call me Draco?" he asked mockingly.

"Yes." She answered truthfully. "Six years I've called you Malfoy. It's quite a hard habit to break."

"True. Hey, come here." He said, the ghost of a grin on his face.

She frowned at him, but followed. "I don't have time, Malfoy. I have to go to—"

He had covered her mouth with his, cutting off her excuse. It was a quick kiss, but she still felt her lips burning, despite his cold exterior. "—to class." She said breathlessly.

"So? Say you had to go to the Library."

"Malfoy. Do you realize what we are doing? You're like a pureblood, son of a Death Eater, Slytherin. I'm a muggle-born, know-it-all, Gryffindor. Has it ever occurred to you that this is defying all laws of everything?"

"Sure it has."

"Well, then, what are you doing?"

"You can't tell me you haven't enjoyed this." He said, smirking.

"I—well, I—" she stuttered, then blushed crimson. The bell signaling for first period rang, and her eyes widened. "I have to go!"

"Saved by the bell." He muttered, going in the opposite direction to Transfiguration.

* * *

"What is up with Hermione?" Ron said quietly. They were supposed to be telling each other's immediate futures by analyzing the stars of the enchanted ceiling. They were happier this year with Divination, since they were not taught by Trelawney this time, but instead with Firenze, the centaur. However, in their view, Divination was a useless subject.

"Ron." Harry said exasperatedly. "It's simple. You annoy the hell out of her."

Ron opened his mouth and closed it twice. "I do not!" he said indignantly.

"What have you found, young ones?" a low, slightly misty voice said from behind them.

Ron jumped in surprise at the centaur's silent approach, knocking over a startlingly real (but enchanted) bush, and Harry had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing. Firenze shot him a look. "Well?" he said irritatingly.

"Well, Mars is parallel to Jupiter's moon, so that means—" Ron made up pathetically as Harry let out a stream of snickers even through his hand.

Firenze shook his dark head and stamped a hoof in impatience. "I see Professor Trelawney has narrowed your minds, young foals. You ought to pay attention more in class, for you are reading the Heavens completely wrong."

"Did we just get dissed by a centaur?" Ron asked amazedly.

"I think so." Harry agreed, staring at Firenze smiling at Lavender and Parvati.

Harry tore his gaze away at Ron's voice. "You know, I almost enjoyed Trelawney more. At least she accepted our made up dreams and such. He's just being a stickler."

"Yeah. I guess." Harry replied, though in all actuality, he thought Firenze had an aptitude for Divination, despite his strict demeanor.

They could hear a bell sound dimly in the distance, and started to get up, but were stopped by Firenze's stamping of hooves. Everyone looked up at him. "I would like you all to practice reading the stars, and I expect one foot of parchment on _interpreting them correctly." _He emphasized, looking directly at Harry and Ron, who swallowed in fright. "You're dismissed."

Ron was still rambling about Hermione and Malfoy as he and Harry headed off towards the Forbidden Forest for Care of Magical Creatures. Harry had, truthfully, long since lost interest in Ron's voice, andhis impossibly green eyes werenow completely riveted at the leaf he was kicking. It was brown.

* * *

"Draco, we can't do this." Hermione whispered intimately.

"Sure we can. If you've noticed out position?" Malfoy replied seductively.

Even Hermione had to admit that she was enjoying this. He had his hands on her waist, and she had, for a while now, her hands roaming around on his muscular stomach. They had been kissing unceasingly for the past couple of minutes now, and as Malfoy knew both he and Hermione had a free period during this time, he took advantage and pulled her in to a secluded corner. He brought his lips up to hers and as hit a sensitive part of her mouth, she giggled. He arched a pale eyebrow (uncannily like his smirk), as he gently but firmly took their kiss to the next level.

He felt her gasp in surprise, but she seemed to enjoy it, because she was undeniably good at returning it. He ran his hand up her back and her neck, and she shivered in response. Without warning, she pulled away, though her hand never left his stomach. He looked at her with confusion, and she returned his stare with an odd combination of happiness and apology.

"I'm sorry, Draco, but I really can't go through with this. It just doesn't feel right. I—I'm really sorry." She said, her voice mimicking her words, as she pulled away.

She started walking the opposite direction, when Draco grabbed her hand and swept her in for a last harsh, earth-shattering kiss before he let her go. She had a dazed look on her face, but she left just the same, if a bit more dreamily. He rested his head on the wall behind him, mulling the past wonderful minutes over. Much as he didn't want to, he did have to confess that it was odd for him and Hermione to be in infatuation with each other. It defied just about every single magical law set down—not to mention his family's rules. He sighed as he again headed off towards the common room, awaiting his ever exciting Double Potions—with the Gryffindors.

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**Sorry for the wait in getting this out, but it took me forever to write, and, truthfully, I'm not very happy with it but it'll have to do. This one will probably have maybe 3-4 chapters left…I know, it's tragic, but it's kind of dwindling itself down.**


	12. Happy Valentine's Day, My Draconis

**Again, I apologize for the delay. I will try to be better about getting these last few chapters out sooner. Thanks are at the end.

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As Draco walked into Potions—late—he couldn't help but get a prickling feeling down his spine, and at the same time cursed and was amazed at his apparent sixth sense. Almost subconsciously, he maneuvered his head in the direction of two stubborn Gryffindors, just to wish he hadn't, for they were giving him very deadly glares. Worse was that he had to avert his usually harsh, icy gray stare from them, only to be met with a beady black glower from Snape. Pretending to look ashamed, he took a seat next to Blaise, who smirked but said nothing.

"Now today," Snape started in his silky, bone-chilling voice, "we will be making something called the Dilectio Penetralis potion. _It is"—_he emphasized, seeing Neville's dazed look—"imperative that you follow my instructions exactly as they are written, for as when prepared properly, this combination is passive, however, one small slip of a wrong ingredient or one wrong slice could cause…undesirable…results. Which would lead to a lot of tedious paperwork that I would rather not waste my time on. Now, following my steps directly, get to work on your potion or it will be 20 points from your house."

Countless rows of writing and ingredients magically appeared on the blackboard behind Snape, and as he searched for something in his desk, scraping of chairs and shufflings of feet filled the classroom as people went to collect their respective items. Telling Blaise to get the things needed, Draco smirked at Neville's cauldron already having started to spark, with Seamus backing away; Blaise shoving Gryffindors out of the way to get things; and finally, his gaze laid to rest on a certain amber-eyed seventh year and her partner…well, lack thereof rather. Her hair was starting to come out of the tight bun, and she carelessly swept a particularly unruly strand out of her eyes,holding as many ingredients as she could carry.

However, as a haphazard Neville rushed up to tell Snape he ruined his potion, he bumped into Hermione. Her eyes widening, she watched helplessly as one of the glass bottled ingredients fell to the floor. Being stone, it immediately smashed into pieces upon impact. Groaning in annoyance, Hermione set the rest down at her table and walked reluctantly over to the pile of glass. Bending down and attempting to pick up the pieces, she moved out of the way to let someone pass, but in doing so, she slit her hand with a shard of glass. Making no noise but a sharp gasp and tears starting to well up in her eyes, she cradled her hand which was now sporting a large gash, and she watched as bright red drops accompanied the clear potion liquid.

Malfoy, swallowing his pride, bent down to help her. "Here." He said, taking her hand. She looked up at him and winced as he touched her cut, but let him have it just the same. Conjuring a muggle Ace bandage and after cleaning her wound, he tightly wrapped it around her hand, ignoring her flinches and gasps at the pain, for "no, pain, no gain". After a while and after experiencing glares from Snape who had no choice but to let Malfoy help her, considering Lucius's position, Draco finished wrapping up her wrist.

"Damn it Malfoy, that hurt!" she complained, paying no attention to the collective intake of breath at the brainy Hermione's swearing. Even so, she blushed slightly.

Malfoy's lips twitched but did not quiver too much. "Language, Granger. Now, get up and watch out next time…because I won't be helping you again."

Hermione sent him a scrutinizing once-over, but at his subtle sign of reassurance, she relaxed and nodded. "Yeah, whatever, Malfoy. Thank you though. However, you'd better go and watch yourself, or people might think you have turned soft."

He smirked at her unchanging personality, but, using his wand, cleaned up the spilled potion contents as he followed Hermione with his shimmering gray eyes. He felt quizzical stares aimed at him from just about the whole classroom, save for Hermione, but tried to ignore them as he replayed the great feeling of her skin on his.

* * *

Hermione sat down to lunch across from her two best friends, but instead of their usual greetings, they simply stared at her oddly. Her smile fading as she looked at them, she sighed in resignation. "I thought this would come up sooner or later."

Upon no movement from Ron, Harry spoke. "Hermione, what in the blazing HELL went on in there!"

She was taken aback at his outburst, but she hadn't expected much less, as, yes, they did have valid reason to warrant questions. "Well, Harry, nothing for your information happened. Malfoy simply helped me from dying as a result of excessive blood loss."

Chancing a glance at Ron, Hermione was only met with glazed eyes and a still shocked expression. Switching to Harry's eyes, she thought with a small smile his sharp glare lessen. "Oh, really. And why would someone such as _Malfoy _help you out? Not that you shouldn't have been assisted, but why him?" Harry asked.

Hermione reddened in embarrassment, and she turned to her grapes, pushing them around with her fork. "Hewasjustbeingnicewhatistheproblemwiththat?" Hermione muttered, very fast.

In addition with the speed of her sentence and the almost inaudibility, Harry raised an eyebrow in both confusion and skepticism. "The only word I caught was 'nice'. Now you wouldn't, by any chance, be describing our nemesis with such a word?"

Again, Hermione looked down, and didn't answer. However, this more than answered Harry's suspicion. "I don't know if 'nemesis' should apply any further…" Hermione trailed in a small voice.

Harry waited a few seconds before answering. With a surrendering sigh, he finally did. "Fine. Your choice. But will you answer me this. What exactly do you see in him? Surely you have noticed all that has happened in our six years of Hogwarts?"

Hermione grinned broadly, and if it were not for the two or so feet between her and Harry, she would have hugged him. Just the same, she reached across the table and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. "Oh, Harry, I knew sooner or later you would understand! Thank you, and I _promise _I won't make fun of the next silly girl you choose!" Hermione squealed.

With a faint tinge on his face, Harry smiled at his friend's happiness. "You wouldn't be Hermione if you didn't. Yet you haven't answered my ques—"

Harry was interrupted by the newly animated Ron. "WHAT!" he yelled, meriting a few stares from around the room. "Malfoy isn't supposed to be our enemy anymore? What has gotten into you, Hermione? You're not the one I used to know!" he dropped his voice, but it cracked at his second exclamation, and he shook her as if to expel the change out of her.

Slowly pushing him back off of her and into his seat, Hermione tried to explain. "_Ronald,_" she began, "once you get to know Draco, he's really not all that bad. Sure he has his moments when he can be the biggest ass to ever walk the earth, but most of the time he's the biggest sweetheart there has ever been! Shut _up, _Harry!" she exclaimed at Harry's gagging motions.

"Sorry, Hermione. I couldn't resist." Harry shrugged, giving her an innocent look.

She narrowed her eyes, but said nothing and looked to Ron again. "Look. I never said you have to like him, Ron. I am just asking you to trust me and possibly even support me. I am still the same Hermione, just with a new person in my life. And I hope you can learn someday to accept that."

Ron's mouth opened many times, yet he never managed a word, except perhaps a few splutterings. "Tanks so much fow yow input, ickle Wonniekins! You've weally hewped us nawwow dis down." Harry replied babyishly, warranting insatiable giggles from Hermione.

Ron shot Harry a very deadly glare, which instead of shutting Harry up, only propelled him into laughter, and Hermione into more giggles. "You see, it's times like these when I wonder what was going through my head when I became your friend." He said.

"Aw, come now. You know you love us." Hermione said jokingly, batting her eyes.

For a reason unbeknownst to Hermione, he blushed furiously and looked down. "Yeah…yeah of course…" he trailed.

Hermione looked at Harry quizzically, but while his face remained impassive, his eyes flickered, showing her he did know something but was not letting on. "Something you want to tell me, Harry?" Hermione asked, her bout of laughter gone.

His smile slid off his face in a matter of milliseconds. "W—What?"

"You heard me. Is there something I should know? You are a _very _bad liar, Mr. Potter."

"I—well, I—of course not, I—" Harry stuttered, but was gladly interrupted when a pair of pale hands covered Hermione's eyes and mouth.

She jumped in fright, and mumbled something incoherent. Draco bent down to her ear and whispered something. Ron and Harry looked at each other in apprehension and wonder, especially when Hermione's face turned a rosy color and she nodded feverishly.

"H-Harry, I-I'll be at the library." Hermione stated unconvincingly.

"Sure you will. We believe you." Harry replied with a devious smile.

Hermione said nothing, but instead a flicker of a grin appeared on her face and she left with Draco. Harry glanced again at Ron, who was trailing Hermione visually. Harry put his arm around his friend.

"I agree you lost a good one, mate. But you can't let it bring you down. How about that Ravenclaw girl? What was her name? Jinnie McNary? She looked promising, and I swear she was perusing you in Divination." Harry tried to comfort Ron.

"Yeah. Whatever. I just might do that. OI! JINNIE!" Ron yelled from across the Great Hall.

Throngs of people stared at Ron, including a beautiful, dark-haired girl from one of the center tables. Her eyes widened, as if asking him what in the hell he wanted. Ron mouthed, _"Come here! I need to ask you something!"_

"_What!" _she mouthed back.

Ron rolled his eyes, and to Harry's great surprise, Ron got up and started to walk over to the Ravenclaw table. Harry sighed at the insane similarity to a soap opera dramedy his school represented. Turning back to his reliable buddy, Mr. Buttered Toast, he tried to imagine what Hermione was doing at this very moment…

* * *

"Would you just keep your eyes shut!" Hermione scolded for what seemed the thousandth time.

"They are!" Malfoy retorted falsely, but was silenced by a look. He was really very curious as to what she was doing at the desk behind him. He hoped it wasn't anything too devious.

After about two more minutes, right as Draco was going to try and look over her shoulder again, she threw down a pen in happiness. "_Now _you can look." She announced. "Voilà! Happy Valentine's Day, Draco." Hermione said softly, kissing him lightly on the lips while handing him a card.

Rolling his eyes, he opened it, and was surprised to see three streaks looking like fireworks jump out of it and proceed to float harmlessly between him and Hermione. With a small explosion, they changed into countless hearts, both big and small. Draco even thought he could smell the faint scent of roses. But as if that wasn't enough, as he read the first line (_For you on this day all the cherubs sing_), a bright blue arrow shot into the air, and from it sprang a small cupid-looking creature, who slowly flew around their heads for a minute or so, then disappeared with small sparkles in its wake. Raising an eyebrow, Draco looked at the girl in front of him, who was slightly blushing, but whose eyes were bright. As he finished reading her card, no magical creature appeared, but the card changed into a jar filled with mist.

"A crystal jar?" Draco joked, referencing to Divination, and honestly expecting Hermione to get embarrassed at her failure of a gift.

Instead, she gave him an exasperated look. "Of course not." She said brusquely. "Unscrew it."

He glanced at her once, but did as instructed. Immediately, the room he and Hermione occupied was drenched in darkness, but out of the jar a fine white mist rose, and formed in the shape of a dragon. He gestured to Hermione. "What the hell is this?" he asked quietly, the reason for his whispering escaping him now.

"Draconis. What else?" Hermione stated proudly. Upon his confused face, she sighed but explained, "The constellation? Oh, honestly! Don't you pay attention in anything? We learned about it just last week in Astronomy! You just ruined my present, Draco." She expressed miserably, snatching the jar from him and screwing it back up, the darkness disappearing as if being sucked into the jar from a vacuum.

She started to walk away after handing him the jar, but he promptly put it off to the side, pulled her around and kissed her harshly on the lips. It wasn't innocent, nor was it particularly romantic, but it was definitely fulfilling and passionate. It reminded Hermione of the day when both Blaise and Lavender caught her and Draco by the Gryffindor common room, and that wasn't such a bad thing. On the contrary, she was even more pleased that he remembered how she wanted to be kissed.

Finally breaking apart, Hermione gave him a sheepish smile, a faint tinge of red appearing in her cheeks. Draco's face was impassive, but his eyes were dancing with both fire and delight.

Leaning down to her ear, he whispered, "Happy Valentine's Day."

* * *

**Yeah I know it was short and for that I am very sorry, but I had to get at least ONE out before I would be torn to pieces by those more violent of my readers. Hehe. So I will try to get another chapter out by next week, but I cannot make any promises, as I fear they could be broken, and that would NOT be good. AND HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY TO YOU, TOO!

* * *

**

**Thanks to:**

**hermionegranger2007, rizahawkeye21 (**haha, you'll find out SOON**), AngieAnaconda, Mrs Pierre Bouvier, Indaic, missindependent1127, Moonstone, Secret Murderer (**I know! I hope this chapter was okay?**), HiddenOperaAngel, dwntwndanbrwn (**haha, I LOVE your sn!**), and debarie. Love y'all!**


	13. Hers Forever

"Look, I'm just trying to tell you guys what happened! Can't you please accept my decision? I don't see why you two are being so stubborn!"

Ron and Harry stopped and turned to look at their desperate (but not showing it) friend. "Hmm…I _wonder_, Hermione! Could it be, perhaps, that it's because he has been our mortal enemy for what, 6 years!" Ron retorted sarcastically.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. _Why couldn't they just accept her and Draco? Sure Ron was right—they had been mortal enemies—but she was their best friend and they should have supported her choices whether they liked it or not!_

She felt a small onslaught of tears coming on, but she tried to blink them away. "Please, Ron. Harry. I know you two don't like—sorry, _hate—_him, but please just at least support us whether you don't like our friendship or not! I've been your best friend from ever since first year. I don't think this one incident should change that, do you? I chose to be with Draco, and you can't just ignore _me _forever! You can ignore him all you want to, you can hate him with all your might, hell, you can even complain to the whole school about him and me…but please don't give me the cold shoulder, for I believe our friendship is more important than just throwing it away for some petty thing! I need you guys, and, frankly, you need me too even if you won't admit it."

Her two friends looked at each other, and were going to walk away again, but they didn't feel they'd be able to live with the guilt of Hermione's so wanting request. Ron couldn't speak, but Harry replied for both of them. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we really were always going to be your friend, Hermione, no matter what. You're right—friendship does go farther (and ours especially) that anything. Nothing should come in the way of it. Forgive us?"

Hermione smiled widely and threw her arms around both of them, inhaling the sweet scent that belonged to only them. "Oh, thank you! You two are the best people and the best friends anyone could ever have." She said, her voice muffled in Harry's shirt.

"Yeah, yeah. Now go get Malfoy—sorry Hermione, but I don't think we'll ever call him Draco—before we change our decision." Ron spoke at last.

Hermione said nothing, but her smile widened, more than she thought it could.

* * *

"Draco, Draco, Draco!" Hermione called excitedly when she finally spotted the platinum blonde head of hair in the crowded hallway. 

He frowned and turned around, no smile evident on his face, but his blue eyes happy. "What?" he asked.

"Ron and Harry are alright with us being together!" her expression could not seriously be any more exhilarated.

"Wonderful. Potter and the Weasel." He said without thinking. His eyes turned shifty and he looked at her with a weak smile.

Hermione scowled harshly, but she could hardly get mad at him. "You can't call them that, Malfoy! If they're willing to compromise, you have to too!"

"Thanks for the tip, now I'll know when you're mad. You call people by their last names."

"Do i? How many people have noticed?" she asked worriedly.

"I dunno. I mean, I did just now."

"Perfect. Just fantastic."

"Hey, come on, now. It'll be fine. It's not that big of a deal." He said, putting his arm around her.

She wriggled out of his grip and stared at him with her hands on her hips. Well, stared as in looked up about seven inches. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, it _is _a big deal! Guys are so insensitive!"

He looked at her with interest. "You know, you get cute when you're angry."

"I—I—what?" she inquired incredulously. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Just what it sounds like."

"I resent that! I do not look…look…_cute, _especially when I'm angry." She defended.

"Oh, yes you are."

"I—"

She was cut off by his quick kiss, which soon turned into a deeper one, and though she protested at first, she gave in to his charm, and kissed him back. She was slightly aware of the other people in the hall going outside, in the Great Hall to eat, in the Library, or wherever else, but she didn't pay them much mind, for they weren't concerning her a whole lot. She felt his hands move to her lower back, and she frowned into his mouth, vaguely telling him he'd better not move any lower than that. To her relief, he didn't, but that didn't stop her either from wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

Finally, after a few more glorious seconds which felt like hours, she separated herself from him. "Is this really happening?" she asked seriously, looking deep into his now shadowed eyes.

"What do you mean?" he asked, almost breathless.

"I mean, we used to hate each other and now look at us! How did this happen?"

"I don't know, but that doesn't mean it isn't right, does it?"

She smiled, her arms still gracing his neck. "No, it doesn't I suppose. I just—I don't know. It just seems surreal. Are you sure this isn't some long dream? Are you sure we're really doing what we think we are?"

"Hermione, no more questions, alright? You want to know the truth? I love you. I always have."

"You—you what?"

"Not exactly the reply I was looking for..."

"Oh, Draco, just be quiet. You know I love you, too. I was merely asking if this is all truly happening. If this happiness is going to stay forever."

"I hope so." he replied deeply, cutting off any more questions with his lips.

Any more matters that were running through her brain now ceased themselves, shutting them away in the farthest niches of her mind, not likely to ever surface again. Whatever hardships they would face, what they _had _faced would be nothing they couldn't conquer…for Draco was hers…and hers forever.

_-The End -_


End file.
